


Working So Hard for the Glory Days

by Leslie_Knope



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, NHL Player Nursey, NHL Player William "Dex" Poindexter, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-18 18:57:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14858400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leslie_Knope/pseuds/Leslie_Knope
Summary: Will knows Nursey, of course. He signed with the Falconers a few months ago as a free agent after college, just like Will did, and they’ve been paired together as defense partners pretty frequently, through rookie camp and now training camp.They play together nicely, he thinks, but they aren’t exactly friends.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story is almost complete, so updates will be regular!
> 
> The draft title for this was Yet Another NHL Rookie AU. *shrug emoji* Eternal thanks to [Hannah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/42hrb/works) for the cheerleading and the handholding, and also for putting up with my apparently endless pool of ideas about NurseyDex as NHL rookies.
> 
> I'm [leslieknopeismyshiningstar](http://leslieknopeismyshiningstar.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!

Will’s in the locker room, running a hand through his hair—he’s hoping it’s one of those lucky days where it dries into something _not_ resembling a poofy mess—when some guy in a Falconers polo comes up next to him and touches his elbow.

“Will,” he says quietly. “George would like to see you.”

Oh, god, it’s finally happening.

Will freezes and has to remind himself to lower his arm.

For the last few weeks, this exact scenario—meeting with the GM near the end of training camp—is what he’s been either dreading or dreaming about, depending on the hour.

Will nods, still in a daze, and follows the guy through the maze of hallways at the Dunk, until they reach a set of chairs in front of George’s office. Derek Nurse—“Nursey,” he said, all casual, the first time they met—is already there, slouched in one of the armchairs and fiddling with his phone. Will sits down in the armchair next to him, but he doesn’t look up.

Will knows Nursey, of course. He signed with the Falconers a few months ago as a free agent after college, just like Will did, and they’ve been paired together as defense partners pretty frequently, through rookie camp and now training camp.

They play together nicely, he thinks, but they aren’t exactly friends. Cliques form pretty naturally, even within a cohesive team like the Falcs seem to be, and Nursey hangs out more with a couple of the established guys, Ransom and Holster, while Will’s become friends with two of the other rookies, Chowder and Tango.

Honestly, Will feels kind of out of his league around him, even in a friend way. Nursey’s not only good at hockey—he’s insanely good, Will is definitely jealous—but he’s _cool_. In that effortless way that Will has always kind of envied but never even _tried_ to emulate. Nursey’s handsome and funny and smiles a lot, and people seem to just gravitate to him.

Will’s a little intimidated, okay, he’s man enough to admit it.

He’s also _nervous_ right now, nervous as fuck, and he smooths out a nonexistent wrinkle in his jeans about three times. Preseason games start in a week, and guys have been been dropping off like flies for the past several days, getting reassigned down to juniors or the AHL. Will really hopes that’s not going to be him. He thinks he’s been doing pretty well, but the coaches are fairly inscrutable and he really has no idea what his chances are here.

Nursey’s in the same boat, presumably, but when Will slides his gaze over to sneak a peek at him, he looks as chill as ever. He has Instagram open on his phone, but that’s the extent of Will’s snooping. He looks forward again, at George’s closed door, and clears his throat. “It feels like we’ve been called to the principal’s office.”

The words sound stupid as soon as they’re out of his mouth and he immediately regrets it, but Nursey laughs, loud and bright, and slides his phone into his pocket. “I know, right?”

He looks over, those piercing green eyes gazing steadily at him, and Will swallows. “Do you, uh, know what this is about?”

Nursey shrugs and scratches at his stubbled cheek. “No idea. It’s either good or bad, right?”

“Right.”

Will blows out a breath, and thankfully, before he has to think of something else to say, George steps out of her office and smiles at them.

“Hi, boys,” she says, gesturing. “Come on in.”

They both murmur a greeting and follow her inside, taking seats in the two chairs in front of her desk. She folds both her hands on her desk and smiles at them again.

“Judging by the looks on your faces, I should probably cut right to it, huh?” she says, and Will bites back a nervous chuckle. He likes George a lot, even if she’s maybe about to crush his dreams.

“Coach has been really impressed with the two of you so far, and we would definitely like you to start the year up here with us.”

Will exhales and loosens his fingers from where they’ve been unwittingly squeezing his thighs. Wow. This shouldn’t come as a complete surprise to him, he knows, but he’s not exactly an optimist.

He sneaks a glance over at Nursey, who’s mostly expressionless, save for a tiny smile curling at one side of his mouth.

Will looks back at George. “Thank you,” he manages, and for some reason, the both of them laugh.

George shuffles through some papers on her desk. “So as you probably know, we usually like to have our rookies live with an older player. Helps them adjust, you know, and stay out of trouble. Now I don’t think that’s completely necessary here, given that the two of you are 22 years old and ostensibly adults,” she says, with a little smirk, “but we’d still like to offer you some support, to the extent that we can. So how would you feel about living together, in an apartment in Jack’s building?”

Will takes another look at Nursey, who’s looking right back this time, one eyebrow quirked. “Sure?” Will offers, because he’s pretty sure that’s what he’s supposed to say, and Nursey nods as he turns back to George.

“Yeah, that’s fine with me.”

They talk a little bit about logistics, and Will takes some papers from George before she ushers them back out of her office. He and Nursey walk out together, back toward the locker room, and it’s quiet between them. Will has a packet of apartment listings in his hands, and he rolls them up into a neat cylinder, twisting it between his palms.

Nursey carefully shuts the door behind them, the door that leads to all of the offices, and pauses. “Did we just make the team?”

Nursey’s voice is a low whisper, but it still sounds loud in the empty hallway. Will swallows and tightens his grip on the papers. “I think we just made the team.”

Then Nursey is _on him_ , hanging off his shoulders and laughing in his ear, and his enthusiasm is completely contagious. Will laughs, relieved, and hugs him back.

* * *

Once the shock of making the team wears off—mostly, that is, it still sends a thrill through him whenever Will thinks about it—Will realizes that this is _real_ and that he now has to live with a near-stranger.

They only have to look at a handful of apartments before they pick one, a simple two-bedroom with a big kitchen and a view of the river. Will’s excited to move out of the hotel they’ve both been staying in, but they quickly realize that even combined, their belongings are fairly meager.

That leads to borrowing a teammate’s truck for a road trip to Stoughton one day after practice, with Nursey navigating obnoxiously from the passenger seat, and they end up standing shoulder-to-shoulder, stock-still, completely blocking the entrance to Ikea.

Nursey scratches at his hairline. “We can totally handle this, right?”

“Sure,” Will says doubtfully. He’s confident in their ability to do lots of things—argue over dumb shit, pass to each other without looking, kill a power play—but furnishing an apartment is absolutely not one of them. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and navigates to his email. “My mom sent me a list.”

“We don’t need a _list_ ,” Nursey says with a scoff.

Will squints. “Would you have remembered to get kitchen towels?”

Nursey deflates right in front of his eyes and leans over his shoulder, snatching his phone out of his hand. “Let me see that.”

* * *

They argue vehemently about the coffee table, make a surprisingly quick and painless decision about the couch, and are forced to resort to rock-paper-scissors over the lamps, the TV stand, _and_ the rug. Because since they have wood floors and have people living underneath them, they apparently need a rug.

Whatever, Will is just reading off the list.

* * *

The final amount at the register makes Will wince, even though they’re splitting it and he knows he can afford it now. They lug everything home, and at least their apartment looks more full, even if it’s majority cardboard now, thanks to those fucking Ikea boxes.

“You’re weirdly good at this.”

Will gives the Allen wrench one last twist and takes the dowel out of his mouth as he looks up at Nursey, lounging in the doorway of his bedroom.

“Good at what?”

Nursey gestures vaguely at the room, where Will’s sitting in the middle of his half-constructed bed. “Being handy.”

“This is pretty easy, you just have to follow the instructions.”

Nursey scoffs. “Those are _pictures_ , not instructions,” he says, then pauses. “So…what can I bribe you with to put my bed together for me?”

Will picks up another screw. “You mean after I put together our TV stand, coffee table, and your bookcase?”

“Please,” Nursey wheedles, and Will pretends to think about it.

“Order some takeout, then we’ll talk.”

Nursey thumps the door jamb with his hand and nods as he heads back toward the living room. “Deal. Thai okay?” he says over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Will calls back. “Get the—”

“Yellow curry, mild, with brown rice, I know,” he yells. Will hears Nursey grumble under his breath, “You pathetic white boy.”

“You probably shouldn’t insult the guy who’s gonna assemble your bed!”

“Fuck you!” Nursey yells back cheerfully. “I’ll spit in your curry.”

Will sighs and picks up the Allen wrench again.

It’s only been a few days, but Will is…cautiously optimistic about living with Nursey. They argue pretty much constantly, but it’s nearly always about something innocuous, and maybe that will just become part of their dynamic, or whatever. Will doesn’t have to be best friends with him or anything, but he hopes that they can learn to get along, at least.

* * *

“Dexy!”

There’s a bare arm wrapping around his neck from behind, and Will laughs as he finishes zipping up his jeans. “Hey, Holster. What’s up?”

“That was a sick play out there, bro, when you got one on Chowder. I’m so excited for Saturday.”

“Yeah, totally,” Will agrees. Preseason is over, the first game just a few days away, and everyone’s energy and anticipation is at its highest.

Holster moves on to Nursey, who’s in the next stall, and Will exhales.

He’s always felt a tiny bit uncomfortable in locker rooms, which is not exactly helpful in his line of work. But realizing that you’re gay when you’re 15—and realizing that other people in the locker room might not like that so much—tends to do that to a guy. He’s never been out to anyone that he’s ever played with, and it’s not like he’s ever even had a crush on a teammate or anything, but it’s just not his favorite place in the world. He always feels extra-mindful of what he’s doing and where he’s looking, like he’s perpetually on thin ice.

But maybe the Falcs’ locker room will be different. Will hasn’t heard even one casual slur or _no homo_ comment, which is remarkable, and he’s definitely been listening.

Jack strolls over, already fully dressed, interrupting his thought, and Will swallows.

He’s still trying to get a read on Jack. He’s somewhat closed off, quieter and more serious than most hockey players Will knows, but he’s a good captain, and everyone in the locker room clearly looks up to him and respects him. Will’s a tiny bit intimidated by him, mostly because he’s so talented—and _very_ handsome, which does not contribute to Will’s fear at all, he swears.

“You looked good out there today, Poindexter,” he says, and Will nods as he tugs his shirt over his head and ruffles his hair.

“Thanks. Looking forward to getting started for real.”

“Yeah, aren’t we all,” Jack says, with a little chuckle, and then motions to Nursey, bringing him into the conversation. “How are you two settling into your new place?”

“Well, turns out Dex is a whiz at Ikea furniture,” Nursey says. “So that’s a win for me.”

Jack laughs. “It’s an underrated skill,” he agrees, and Will tries not to blush. “Would the two of you like to come up to our place for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah,” Will says, after exchanging a glance with Nursey. “Yeah, that would be great, thank you.”

“Okay. We’ll expect you at 7, eh?”

“Sure,” Nursey says, and Jack claps them both on the shoulder before moving on.

Later, as they’re walking out, Will elbows Nursey. “We should bring something.”

“Huh?”

“To Jack’s. We should bring, like, a bottle of wine or something.”

Nursey grins. “Well look at you, Mr. Manners.”

Will flushes harder and busies himself with his phone. Whatever, his parents raised him right. “Shut up.”

“No, we should, you’re right.”

They find a liquor store on their walk home, and Will trails Nursey through the aisles.

“Do you know who Jack lives with?” Will asks, and Nursey makes a face as he scans the selection of merlot. Nursey has a lot of opinions on wine, it turns out.

“He lives with someone?” he asks, and Will shrugs.

“He said _we_.”

“Huh.” Nursey looks at him for a second, his head tilted, and then goes back to the wine. “I guess you’re right. Maybe Shitty? They’re pretty tight, maybe they’re roommates.”

Will shakes his head. “No, he lives with this girl who goes to RISD, he was telling me about her the other day.”

“Interesting. I’ve never heard Jack talk about anyone, though.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

After five more minutes of deliberating, Nursey finally picks one. He claims that he’s had it before, but Will isn’t convinced that he based his decision on anything besides the cool-looking tree on the label.

* * *

“We don’t have to, like, dress up,” Nursey yells from his bedroom, “right?”

“I mean, I’m not wearing sweatpants,” Will calls back, and Nursey comes into the kitchen making a face, still doing up his belt.

“Think this is okay?”

“You look fine.”

That’s probably an understatement for how nice Nursey looks in dark jeans and a sweater, but _you look fine_ seems safe.

“Thanks for the compliment, Dex, you look great, too,” Nursey says dryly, still fiddling with his belt, and Will sighs. He steps forward and reaches for Nursey’s sleeve.

“You look very nice, except that your cuffs are uneven.” He straightens them, rolling up the right one a little bit more, and Nursey preens a little.

“Thanks. Am I presentable now?” he asks, and Will tilts his head.

“I guess I’m not ashamed to be seen with you. Let’s go.”

They make it to the elevator, realize they forgot the wine, and have to double back. But they eventually make it up the three floors to Jack’s apartment, Nursey leans in to ring the bell, and when it opens just a second later, Will’s jaw drops.

Jack’s standing there, his arm casually strewn across the shoulders of a _guy_ , a blond, very _cute_ guy. Will’s probably making a very unattractive face, but he can’t think of anything right now besides the fact that Jack apparently lives with a man. And not in a platonic way, if their body language is anything to go by.

Nursey recovers first, if he was at all surprised to begin with, and offers his hand. “Hey. I’m Nursey.”

“This is Bitty,” Jack says, gesturing.

“Bitty?” Nursey repeats, and the guy laughs.

“Yeah,” he says, in a pleasant Southern accent. “Eric Bittle, actually, but Bitty’s fine. Gotta have a hockey nickname, right?”

Will licks his lips and tries to remember how to speak. “I’m Will. Or, uh, Dex.”

Bitty smiles as he shakes his hand. He’s short, maybe only 5’7” or so, but he’s built, like maybe he’s an athlete, too, and very handsome. Way to go, Jack. “Nice to meet y’all.”

Nursey hands over the wine, and Bitty ushers them inside into the living room. The apartment is the same floor plan as their own, Will’s pretty sure, but decorated much more nicely. He steps over to get a closer look at the framed photos on the wall, but Jack grabs him by the arm, a little too tight to be comfortable.

“You guys open that, we’ll go get some glasses,” he announces, towing Will toward the kitchen.

Jack pushes him through the doorway and corners him by the island, folding his arms over his chest. He’s smaller than Will, but he still looms very effectively, somehow. When he speaks, his voice is lower than normal. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“No!” Will squawks because the last thing he needs is his captain thinking that he’s a homophobic asshole, oh god. “God, no. Not at all. I swear. I was just…surprised.”

Jack studies him for a long minute, with those startlingly clear blue eyes. He must see something resembling sincere in Will’s face because his expression relaxes to normal Canadian hockey robot, which is far preferable to _pissed off_ Canadian hockey robot.

“Okay. If you’re sure,” he adds.

“I promise,” he says again, firmly. “I think it’s great.”

Will tries to hide his relief as Jack claps his shoulder and nods. “Get some glasses from that cabinet next to the fridge.”

Will nods and turns around, thankful for something to do.

He manages to get through dinner without putting his foot in his mouth and/or accidentally coming out, which he considers a victory. Bitty is funny and charming, and Jack is open and relaxed in a way that Will hasn’t seen before. It’s nice, to see him so explicitly happy, and Will feels a wistful pang in his chest as he watches them interact.

After dinner, he and Bitty are in the kitchen, and Will braces both elbows on the island to lean over the tempting pie sitting there, taking a deep whiff. “This smells amazing.”

Bitty smiles at him and reaches up to grab a stack of dessert plates from one of the upper cabinets. “Thank you. It’s one of Jack’s favorites, I hope you like blackberries.”

“Definitely.” Will tilts his head and looks at the pie again. “So what do you use to thicken the filling? Are you a cornstarch or flour person?”

Bitty looks over his shoulder, one eyebrow lifted. “Do you bake?”

Will lifts a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “My parents own a little bakery, coffee shop-type place back in Maine, where I grew up. My sister and I started helping out when we were kids, but I also did a lot in high school, to help pay for hockey.”

“Wow, really? That’s so cute. What kinds of things did you bake?”

“I never really got into pies and pastry, that was more my mom’s thing, but I did a lot of bread. And cookies and muffins and quick bread stuff like that.”

Bitty’s jaw drops. “ _Bread_? I’ve never really been able to make bread.”

“What, really? If you can make _pie_ , you can definitely make bread. It’s really easy.”

Bitty sighs. “I don’t think yeast and I are friends.”

“I’ll show you sometime, if you want.”

“I will definitely take you up on that. Now come on, Jack gonna think we’ve gone and eaten it all without him.”

The blackberry pie is even better than it smells. The wine that Nursey so painstakingly picked out goes well with it, and as they get ready to leave, Will feels a lot more satisfied than he’d been anticipating, in more ways than one.

He and Bitty exchange numbers, and Bitty promises to invite him over next time he’s baking. “You can help me with yeast, I’ll help you with pie crust.”

“Deal,” Will says, then waves at Jack. “Thanks for having us.”

Jack nods, his arm wrapped tight around Bitty’s waist. “Of course. See you guys tomorrow.” 

Once they’re in the elevator, Nursey clears his throat. “So I heard you and Bitty talking in the kitchen,” he says, his eyes fixed forward.

Will lifts his eyebrows. “Eavesdropping? Polite.”

“Shut up.” Nursey knocks their shoulders together. “So how come you’ve never made me cookies, huh?”

Will bites back a smile and steps out when the elevator opens on their floor. “Maybe someday, if you’re good.”

Nursey laughs and uses his key to let them inside the apartment. “More pie?”

Bitty sent them home with the leftovers, and Will’s glad he’s not the only one who wants more. “Oh, obviously. I didn’t think it would be polite to ask for seconds.”

Nursey laughs and grabs two forks from the drawer. “Same.”

They stand shoulder to shoulder at the breakfast bar, eating forkfuls of pie straight out of the plastic container. “So that was fun,” Nursey says after a minute, and Will nods, scraping a large bite onto his fork.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“I have two moms,” he says, out of the blue, and Will gives him a little side-eyed look as he chews. He knew that, actually—he may have googled Nursey before, so what—but he figures he shouldn’t lead with that.

“That’s cool.”

“Like, they’re gay,” he explains, unnecessarily, and Will nods.

“Cool,” he says again. “Are you guys close?”

Nursey looks at him for a second, his fork frozen in midair, and then his shoulders relax. “Yeah, actually. Really close. I think they’re gonna come up for a game in a few weeks.”

“Awesome. I’d love to meet them.”

Nursey nods and turns back to the pie. Will takes another bite, too, and chews slowly. It would be so easy— _hey, by the way, I’m gay, too_ —but Will’s never come out to a teammate before, and he doesn’t think he’s ready to start now.

* * *

The Falconers are on the road to start the season, in Philadelphia, and Will wishes that he felt prepared for it. He’s trying to be cool, trying to be relaxed, but as he paces in frustratingly small ovals around their hotel room, he’s self-aware enough to know that he’s miles away from either emotional state.

Nursey’s sprawled out on his bed—he claimed the one farthest from the door, and Will didn’t fight him on it—and he lifts his head to glare at him. “Dude,” he calls out. “You need to—”

“I swear to god, if you tell me to _chill_ ,” Will snaps, but Nursey just rolls his eyes.

“Your pacing is stressing me out. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Our first game is in, like, five hours.”

“It’s just a hockey game. You’ve played hundreds.”

“Not in the NHL!”

Nursey sighs. “Relax. You’re gonna play fine.”

“I _know_ that,” Will says, because he does. Self-confidence and positive self-talk are important parts of the mental game—if you start thinking that you can’t do it, you’re fucked. He’s got that part pretty much locked down. Will’s just… It’s still a big deal. He’s allowed to be nervous.

Will shakes his head. He probably couldn’t relax right now if his life depended on it. He paces a little more, and Nursey goes back to scrolling on his phone, clearly done with this conversation.

But apparently not because after four more passes, Nursey throws a pillow at him, one of those small, annoying decorative ones that hotels pile on the bed for no reason. Will bats it down right before it hits him in the face.

“What the fuck, dude.”

“Calm. _Down_.”

“How are you so calm, anyway? Why aren’t you freaked out?”

Nursey stretches, his t-shirt riding up a little, and scratches at his stomach. “Because if I think about it too much, I’ll start convincing myself that I’m terrible, that I don’t actually belong here, and then I’ll psych myself out and play like shit.”

Nursey says the words so flatly, without even looking up from his phone, that Will is thrown for a second. Is he serious?

“Are you—what?”

Nursey doesn’t say anything else, and Will realizes that he’s stopped pacing. “Stop that,” he says, sharper than he intended. “Don’t think that way. I’m only as calm as I am—”

Nursey snorts at that, making a face, and Will glares at him.

“It could be worse, shut the fuck up. I’m only as calm as I am because I know you’re gonna be out there with me. You’re the best d-man I’ve ever played with, you’re amazing. You should never doubt that. If I can do this, you can _definitely_ do this.”

Nursey stares at him, his eyes wide, and Will swallows. Maybe that was a little much, his voice got kind of loud at the end there.

But thankfully, before Will has to think of something to say—or deal with however Nursey would react to his word vomit—someone knocks on their door.

Will spins on his heel, probably too fast, and opens it to see Chowder on the other side. He’s practically vibrating, and he’s twirling an empty water bottle between his fingers. “Hey, guys. Anyone else nervous?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Will says gratefully. “Come on in.”

“Hey, Nursey,” Chowder says, stepping inside, and Nursey lifts two fingers in a casual wave.

Will gestures at him. “See! It’s not just me. Nursey’s too cool for nerves,” he informs Chowder.

“Yeah, that checks out,” he says, and Nursey smirks. Will rolls his eyes.

Nursey points at Will’s bed. “Lie the fuck down, both of you, and close your fucking eyes. At least try to sleep.”

“Yes, dad,” Chowder says placidly, and Will laughs, harder than the joke warranted.

Nursey throws a pillow at him, which Chowder objects to, and they never do end up taking a nap.

* * *

Will’s jittery feeling doesn’t fade throughout the afternoon, and his heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest as he rides to the arena, as he suits up, as he stands on the line and listens to the anthem. But as soon as the puck drops, the roar of the crowd fades to its normal dull background noise, and Will feels calm again. It’s just hockey, he knows how to do this.

Will doesn’t score or anything, not that he was expecting to, but he and Nursey play a very respectable 15 minutes, and they only allow one goal while they’re on the ice. The Falconers win, thanks in part to Jack’s two goals, and the mood in the locker room is jubilant. It’s only one game, with 81 (and hopefully more) left to go, but they’ll take it.

* * *

Somehow, Will has become the de facto cook in their household.

It bothers him less than it probably should, mostly likely because Nursey acts as if it’s, like, an act from god every time Will makes dinner. Will wants to tell him that it’s not that hard, really—once you learn how to chop things and read a recipe, everything else is pretty much gravy—but it’s not bad for his ego. Will’s been cooking since he was a kid, and as he got older and more serious about hockey, he learned how to make food that actually tastes good and also fits within the constraints of a meal plan.

Plus, it usually absolves him from doing any other chores around the house. Nursey weirdly enjoys doing laundry, and while they’re both fairly neat, Will maybe a little bit more so, they decided pretty quickly that hiring a biweekly housekeeper to take care of everything else was a very worthy expense.

It’s probably better for their burgeoning friendship not to have any more screaming fights about whose turn it is to vacuum, anyway.

“Dex!” Nursey yells, from the living room. “What the hell is going on outside?”

“Uh, I’m in the kitchen!” Will calls back. “So I obviously don’t know!”

“There’s fire! On the water!”

Will sighs, turns the soup pot down to a simmer, and wipes his hands on the dish towel hanging from the oven door. Nursey actually bought him an apron, a gaudy, ruffled one with _Kiss The Cook_ scrawled across it in fancy script, but Will has so far refused to wear it. And will continue to do so until the day he dies, if he has any say in the matter.

“A fire,” he repeats. “On the water.”

Nursey’s plastered against the door to their balcony, and he twists to look at Will. “ _Fires_ ,” he empathizes. “Here, come look.”

Will crosses the room and steps up behind Nursey. “Oh,” he says, blinking. “Wow.”

“See?” Nursey says, and Will makes a face at him.

Their apartment overlooks a river, the name of which Will often forgets and definitely can’t pronounce, specifically the section where it forms a large circle, surrounded by a park. Normally it’s fairly quiet, but right now it’s absolutely packed full of people, at least ten-deep the whole way around the circle, and floating in the water are a couple dozen large braziers, all of which are full of wood and aflame.

“Wow,” he says again. “Bitty told me about this.”

“Yeah?” Nursey asks, and Will nods.

“It’s called WaterFire. I thought it was only in the summer, though.”

“That’s really cool. You think it goes all the way down the river?”

“Probably. You could go to the terrace and check,” Will suggests. Their building has a wraparound terrace on the 14th floor that offers a view of pretty much the whole city.

“That’s a brilliant idea.” Nursey’s already headed for the door. “Be right back.”

Will finishes up dinner, testing the seasoning of the chili and taking the cornbread out of the oven. He’s done by the time Nursey comes back, shivering a little in his thin t-shirt. “So?”

He nods. “Yeah, all the way down the river, there must be a hundred of ‘em. The terrace is packed, though, a bunch of people are having parties. It’s a great view.” He peers over Will’s shoulder and sniffs loudly. “That smells awesome, by the way. Let’s sit outside.”

Their “outdoor furniture” consists of one uncomfortable pair of plastic chairs, but Will nods anyway. It’s a pretty nice night, and now that November is looming, they probably don’t have many of those left.

Outside, the wood smoke is heavy in the air, and the smell reminds Will of campfires on the beach on cold summer nights. “Will you get beers?” he yells, and he’s pretty sure he hears an affirmative grunt in response.

Nursey comes outside with not only two beers, but also the throw blanket from the couch. It was a housewarming gift from Nursey’s moms, and while Will isn’t sure what it’s made of, it’s so soft that he suspects unicorn dust or something.

“Cozy,” he says dryly, and Nursey promptly drops the blanket on his head.

“See if I share with you, then. Meanie.”

Will snorts and manages to disentangles himself from the blanket without dropping his bowl of chili. Nursey drags his chair right next to Will’s, and because Will is nice, he transfers half the blanket to Nursey’s lap.

They eat in silence for a little bit, until Nursey groans. “This cornbread is fuckin’ baller. Wow.”

“I got the recipe from Bitty. It’s like, half butter, so. I would hope so.”

Nursey laughs. “It’s worth it.”

The music coming from down below is kind of weird, this new-agey chanting stuff, but it’s soothing nonetheless, and Will props his feet up on the railing. After a while, Nursey clears his throat.

“Did you ever think you’d end up here?”

Will’s assuming he means something broader than sitting in a plastic chair on a balcony of an apartment building in Providence.

“No,” he says honestly. Will’s always felt like a little bit of an outsider. Well—the gay thing, obviously, but also in terms of development. Nearly all the guys he plays with now did USNDTP stuff, or they played in juniors, and they had special coaches in the summers, while Will spent his development years fitting in practices around his classes and working at his parents’ bakery all summer to make enough money for ice time and equipment.

“I mean,” he continues, “I wasn’t even the best player on my high school team. I was always tall, but I was skinny until I was like, 20. And I wasn’t fast enough for how skinny I was. I didn’t get a scholarship until partway through college.”

“When did you start thinking about it? That you could make it, I mean.”

“For real?” Will sighs. He’s never doubted his skill—he realized early on that he needed to believe in himself, even if no one else did—but that doesn’t mean that he thought he could make it. “I mean…I guess knew at the beginning of my senior season that I could probably sign with someone. There were teams interested, and I got an agent. But I still didn’t really believe it until I signed the contract.”

“That’s pretty cool, dude.”

Will shrugs. “Just a late bloomer, I guess. If someone told me this time last year that I’d be second pair on an NHL team, I never would’ve believed them. Like, at all.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Nursey doesn’t keep going, though, so Will bumps his knee with his own. “What about you?”

Nursey scrunches his face up and scratches at his cheek. “I always—I mean, I always worked hard, I wanted to be good. But I always had other stuff going on, too, and I just kept waiting for the other stuff to outweigh hockey.” Nursey shrugs. “But it didn’t. I kept loving it and I kept getting better, so I kept playing.”

“No big deal,” Will says dryly, and Nursey smirks.

“I actually considered it for a while when the Falcs offered me the contract. I didn’t wanna be one of those guys who just bounced around the AHL or the ECHL, you know? So I decided to see how the summer went, training camp, and then decide again.” Nursey laughs. “And then I met you. My hockey soulmate.”

Nursey says the words jokingly, and Will chuckles. “Oh, yeah, I’m your hockey soulmate? Good to know.”

“Are you saying it’s not mutual?” Nursey gasps. “Wait, are you cheating on me? Do you have some side piece defenseman up in Maine?”

Will kicks him in the shin. “No, shut up.” Just the opposite, actually, Will doesn’t really understand it. He’s played with a lot of other guys, a lot of other guys who were really good, but Nursey’s been the only one who’s made Will much better. He scrapes up the last bite of his chili and looks out over the fires. “You’re the best player I’ve ever played with.”

“Aww.” Nursey’s tone is kind of mocking, but when Will looks over, his smile is genuine. “Thanks, dude. Right back atcha.”

“I thought I was a fucking goon who had a sorry excuse for a back check,” Will says, lifting his eyebrows. “To quote you from this morning.”

Nursey smirks. “Yeah, well, gotta keep you on your toes during practice,” he says, then laughs when Will rolls his eyes. “So what was your degree in? What’s the backup plan?”

“Comp sci.”

Nursey laughs and twists to look at him. “No shit, really? Nerd,” he says, but it sounds fond.

“And what about you?”

“Poetry,” Nursey says, grinning, and Will’s eyes widen.

“Really?”

“Yeah, man. You’ve seen my room.”

Nursey _does_ have a lot of books, probably more than every other hockey player Will knows combined.

“I put together your bookcase, you mean,” Will corrects, and Nursey grins again, unapologetic.

* * *

The dinner thing turns into a routine. It’s not every night, of course, but when they’re in town and don’t have other plans with the team, they have dinner together. Sometimes they go out, if they’re craving something specific, or order in, if someone forgot to go to the grocery store, but Will usually cooks. It probably counts as part of their “special d-man bonding time,” as Ransom and Holster called it when they gave him and Nursey earnest and embarrassing tips on how to strengthen their relationship. Most of their ideas weren’t too appealing—Pictionary seems rife for a competitive yelling match, and Will doesn’t know what a wine-and-paint night even _is_ —but they can handle dinner.

Tonight is Nursey’s night to choose what TV show they watch while eating dinner, and normally he’d be in the living room with 20 minutes to spare, painstakingly flipping through the various streaming services while thinking out loud and rejecting all of Will’s input.

He’s nowhere to be found, though, which is strange—Nursey’s weirdly punctual about dinner, and he’s the one who always insists that they eat at a regular time.

He’s still not there, even after Will’s turned the stove off and spooned the fried rice into bowls, so Will heads toward his bedroom. “Nursey!” He raps his knuckles on the door, waiting and then frowning when he doesn’t hear anything, not even the music that Nursey usually has playing while he’s in his room. It’s definitely not their nap time—yes, they’re children, he’s aware—and he has no other idea why Nursey wouldn’t be answering him.

He tries knocking again. “Hello? Any indication that you’re alive would be great.”

He moves his ear closer to the door, listening carefully, and it’s only then that he hears a weird, choked-off breath. Various terrible scenarios flash through Will’s head—Nursey could have fallen or knocked himself unconscious or choked on something—and he twists the doorknob, suddenly thankful that their bedroom doors don’t have locks.

“I’m coming in, so if you’re jacking off, please stop,” he calls out as he eases the door open. He squints, _really_ not interested in getting an eyeful of anything, but Nursey’s bed is half-made like usual, the rumpled gray comforter tossed carelessly over his sheets, and the rest of the bedroom is empty.

The door to his bathroom is cracked, though, and Will peers inside. Nursey’s clothed, at least—well, he’s wearing shorts, which for him counts as clothed—but he’s sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up and his back against the tub.

“Nursey?”

He doesn’t say anything, his forehead bent down against his knees, and Will frowns. He crouches next to him and touches his shoulder. “Nursey? Are you okay?”

Nursey shakes his head but doesn’t say anything, and Will’s heart starts to pound a little harder in his chest. He swallows. “I’m gonna need you to tell me what’s wrong, buddy.”

Nursey takes a careful breath, lifting his head but not meeting Will’s gaze, and when he speaks, his voice is slower and more even than normal, as if he’s putting concerted effort into it. “I’m having a panic attack.”

Oh, shit.

Will blinks. He has no idea what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that.

“Okay. Can I, um, can I get you anything?”

He shakes his head again, and Will makes a decision. He gets more comfortable, sitting down next to Nursey and stretching his legs out, and wraps an arm around Nursey’s bare shoulders, careful to keep his touch light.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and after a second, Nursey nods.

_Okay_ , Will mouths. He can do this, he can be supportive.

Will doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone have a panic attack. Nursey’s unnaturally quiet and his breaths are hitching, like he’s having trouble getting enough air, but he isn’t frantic or _outwardly_ panicking or anything like that. It doesn’t look like Will might have expected.

Or maybe panic attacks look different in different people. Will has a lot of things to Google later.

He feels utterly useless just sitting here, listening to Nursey struggle to breathe, but Nursey doesn’t exactly seem to be in a chatting mood. So he forces himself to be still and focuses instead on his _own_ breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling with a soft _whoosh_. That won’t help Nursey, he knows, but he doesn’t really have anything else to go on here.

But after 15 minutes or so—Will has no idea, really—Nursey exhales a long breath that sounds steadier than it has since Will sat down.

“ _Fuuuuuck_ ,” he says slowly, lifting his head. He breathes again and closes his eyes, tipping his head back. “The worst of it is over.”

Will sits there for a minute and then clears his throat. “You wanna go have some dinner?” he asks, and Nursey makes a face.

“I’m not hungry.”

He sounds exhausted, and while Will can’t imagine how he’s feeling right now, he can guess that it probably isn’t anything good.

But on the other hand, he’s a hockey player, and he can’t really afford to skip a meal.

“It’s chicken fried rice,” Will says cajolingly, and Nursey makes another face, but this one is more resigned, less disgusted.

“Okay, fine,” he says, but he makes no motion to get up.

“Is your ass totally asleep?” Will whispers, and he’s prouder than he probably should be of Nursey’s little chuckle.

“Yeah. Yours?”

“Completely.”

Will disentangles himself from Nursey and stands up with a grimace. His ass is, in fact, numb, and he shakes out both his legs in an attempt to get rid of that annoying pins-and-needles feeling. He extends his hand down, and Nursey looks at it for a second before grasping it with his own and letting Will help haul him up.

As they leave Nursey’s bedroom, Will still doesn’t really know how he’s supposed to act, but he figures that going on as normal is as good of an idea as anything else.

“Want to pick what we’re going to watch?”

His voice comes out a little too cheerful, probably, but Nursey just nods and peels off toward the living room. Will, thankful for something to _do_ , heats up the fried rice, which has gone a little tepid, and cracks open two beers. He reconsiders it afterward, if Nursey will actually want it, but he decides again that normal is the way to go. Will can just drink it, anyway, if Nursey doesn’t want it.

The microwave beeps, and Will carefully takes out the bowl. “You want soy sauce on yours?”

“Yes, please,” Nursey calls out.

Will balances both bowls in the crook of his left arm, the beers in his right, and goes into the living room, where Nursey has Atlanta queued up on the TV.

“Here. I hope it’s warm enough, I—”

“It’s fine,” Nursey interrupts. “Thanks, dude. This smells great.”

He starts the episode, and Will settles into the couch. He starts eating and sidles his gaze over to Nursey a few times, to make sure he’s eating, too. But by the looks Nursey keeps giving him in return, he’s not being very subtle about it.

When the episode ends, Will clears his throat. “So. Um—”

Almost immediately, Nursey’s gaze drops to his bowl, which is still half-full. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” He scoops up a bite on his fork but lets it fall back into the bowl instead of eating it. “I’m just really fuckin’ tired.”

Nursey, who’s fidgety in a way that he rarely is, looks…embarrassed, almost, which Will hates, but he doesn’t know how to address that while obeying his wishes not to talk about it.

“Yeah,” he says instead. “Yeah, of course.”

* * *

The next morning, Will’s bed is shaking.

He tries to orient himself as he wakes up—this can’t be an earthquake, there really aren’t earthquakes on the east coast—and then opens his eyes to Nursey leaning over his bed, jostling the frame.

“What the hell, dude,” Will says, hoarse, and Nursey grins. He’s dressed, in basketball shorts and a thin long-sleeved shirt, and he looks disturbingly awake.

“Let’s go for a run.”

Will blinks at him and levers himself up on one elbow. “What? Right now?”

“Yes. Obviously. Come on.”

He and Nursey run together sometimes, after a mutual realization that they both hate the treadmill with a burning passion, but they usually don’t go at…6:30 in the morning, he learns, after fumbling for his phone. Will stayed up too late googling various panic attack-related things, and he would have liked to sleep in a little more. But he probably wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep now, anyway.

“Okay, fine, I’m up,” he grumbles. “Go away.”

Will gets dressed, chugs a glass of cold water in a futile attempt to wake himself up, and meets Nursey by the front door.

“Where do you wanna go?”

Nursey rests both hands on his head and hums, stretching to the side. “Let’s run down by the river, cross at Point, then go up through College Hill. Just like three miles or so.”

Will makes a face. “Not the fucking hill.”

“You’re such a baby. We’ll go the easy way.”

“It’s the same elevation change no matter what. There _is_ no easy way.”

“False,” Nursey says, pointing at him. “You don’t notice it as much when you go the long way, it’s not as drastic.”

Will shakes his head. “No way. It’s better to just get it over with.”

“Okay, fine, then you can run up College and I’ll just meet you there.”

Will sighs. “No, we’ll go your way.”

Nursey grins.

The path by the river is quiet, the city not quite awake yet, and they don’t talk for a while, the only noises the slap of their shoes against the pavement and the matching huffs of their breaths. They wind down south, then cross the river and go east for a little bit before heading north again.

“So I get panic attacks sometimes.”

Trust Nursey to a) bring it up out of the blue, and b) start talking on the steepest block.

“What, uh, what does _sometimes_ mean?”

“Maybe every few months or so? It’s better than when I was a kid.”

Will nods and wets his lips. “Anxiety?”

He’s learned in the past 12 hours that panic attacks aren’t always indicative of a more chronic anxiety disorder, but they often go together.

“Yeah,” Nursey says after a second. “It’s—it’s pretty well under control now. But…well.”

He trails off. Will isn’t sure how long he’s willing to talk about this, so he tries to prioritize all the questions that have been building in his head.

“Is there—I mean, can I help at all?”

Nursey’s quiet for another half-block. “What you did was fine. I don’t have to, like, be alone or anything.”

“But—” Fuck, Will’s quads are burning. “I don’t want to just, like, _not make things worse_.”

“Nothing, uh, _helps_ , really, besides just waiting it out.” They pause at an intersection, waiting as a bus lumbers by, and Nursey jogs in place. “But it did. What you did last night. Help, I mean. Sort of. Am I making any sense?”

Uh, no, not really.

“Kinda,” Will says instead. He has more questions—are his panic attacks triggered by something, has he ever had one during a game—but he figures this might be enough for now. “Thanks for telling me.”

Nursey nods a little, Will can see out of the corner of his eye, and then speeds up. “You wanna race back?”

Will makes a face. “No.”

“Then you’re already a loser!” Nursey calls out over his shoulder, and Will rolls his eyes before increasing his pace to follow him.

* * *

Later that day, during practice, Will can’t help but keep a close eye on Nursey. He knows that it’s…he has no idea how to convey to Nursey that it’s _fine_ without making it seem like there was any possibility that it _wouldn’t_ be fine. Which there’s not, Will wants to clarify. Obviously. And now he’s thought himself into a circle again.

It should go unsaid—that it’s fine, he means—but Will wants to say it anyway.

When they’re in between drills, near the end of practice, Nursey skates up to where Will’s loitering around behind the goal. “Hey,” he says sharply.

Nursey shoves him, a little too hard to be friendly, and Will, who wasn’t expecting it, bounces off the boards. “What the hell, dude.”

He shoves back, and they scuffle in a way that should be playful but really isn’t. Nursey glares at him. “You keep—”

Nursey cuts himself off, scowling, and Will is pissed off and confused. “What? What’s your problem?”

“You keep, I dunno, _checking on me_. You think I don’t know how to handle myself or something? Because let me tell you, I’ve been dealing with this since I was a fucking kid, and I can fucking handle it, believe me.”

“That’s _not_ it,” Will hisses.

“Then what the fuck is it, man, you’re acting weird as hell.”

“You’re my _friend_ , I’m worried about you. Not like—” Will cuts himself off and groans, flustered. He’s not expressing himself well at all. “I know you can handle yourself. Obviously. But it’s shitty that you have to deal with this. And I just…I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

He trails off, kind of weakly, and Nursey stares at him for a second before his face relaxes into his familiar grin. “Aw. You think we’re friends?”

Will huffs a little, but he can’t hold back a smile. “Yeah, Nursey. We’re friends.” Will bends down to pick up his stick. “Sorry if I…I didn’t mean to be weird, I swear. You’re—I know you have everything under control. I just want you to be good. That’s all.”

Nursey ducks his head a little. “Yeah, I’m good, I promise.” Will has never seen anyone scuff their toe while wearing skates, but Nursey comes pretty close. “Sorry for like, jumping down your throat.”

“I probably deserved it. But I’ll make you get me ice for the new bruise I’m about to have.”

Nursey laughs. “Deal.”

“Hey,” Jack calls out, skating toward them. “Everything okay over here?”

Will turns to him and nods. It’s surprising that no one’s approached them yet, honestly, they must not have raised their voices much.

“Yeah.” Nursey slings his arm around Will’s neck, knocking their helmets together. “We’re good. BFFs, even, you might say.”

Jack squints at them and then shakes his head, laughing a little. “Whatever works. Let’s go, eh?”

“Yeah, Dexy.” Nursey taps his shin with his stick and skates off backward. “What’s the hold up, dude?”

Will sighs and follows him. It seems to be his MO, after all.


	2. Chapter Two

The sunlight filtering through Will’s curtains in the morning is _blinding_ , and he immediately regrets opening his eyes. He closes them again and groans, rolling over onto his other side. His head is pounding, which is about what he deserves, he supposes, considering that he scored his first goal last night and went out in celebration with the whole team. He probably should have stopped before those last two tequila shots, though.

He idly wonders what time it is, but in order to find out he’d have to reach for his phone on the nightstand, which he absolutely doesn’t have the energy for.

But the door to his room flies open then, bouncing against the wall with a resounding _crack_ , and Will wants to cry. He shudders and closes his eyes, bracing himself against the bed as the noise reverberates in his skull, until he’s 85 percent sure he’s not going to vomit.

“Oh my god,” he croaks, finally, “you _asshole_. I hate you.”

“Morning, sunshine!”

Nursey climbs onto the bed, clambering over Will, and Will buries his head under his pillow. The jostling is terrible. “Why are you in my bed,” he mumbles.

“Because I brought you coffee.”

Will pauses and sniffs. It does smell like coffee. He tentatively lifts the pillow off his face and peers over at Nursey, who’s smiling and holding out a mug.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Will sighs and sits up a little bit, until he can reach for the mug and cradle it protectively against his chest. He yawns and takes a sip—it’s too hot, but he doesn’t care. He’s really glad that Nursey buys expensive coffee, this shit is delicious. He originally made a face at coffee that cost 20-plus dollars a pound, but he quickly admitted defeat on that one.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re still an asshole, though.”

“An asshole who brought you coffee,” Nursey points out, and…valid. But still.

“Doesn’t make up for the door thing.”

“Consider it payback for having to hold your hair back while you threw up.”

Will frowns and tugs at his comforter with his free hand, bringing it up to his chin. “I didn’t throw up.”

“Okay, you didn’t throw up,” Nursey concedes. “But you did call me pretty.”

Fuck.

Will’s cheeks are hot, and he hides his face behind the coffee mug in a way that he hopes looks natural. “I did not.”

Nursey’s full-on grinning now. “Oh, yes, you did.”

Will groans and takes another, longer sip. “Sounds fake but okay.”

Nursey snorts. “You fucking nerd.”

“Stop being loud.”

“I’m being quiet!” he exclaims, _loudly_ , then has the decency to look chagrined. “Sorry. And congrats, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“I hope you score lots of goals, if you call me pretty every time.”

Will scowls. He’s clearly never going to live this one down. At least he just called Nursey pretty and didn’t say—or _do_ —anything else.

Well…he’s pretty sure he didn’t.

“I made eggs,” Nursey says innocently, and Will lifts an eyebrow.

“Fried?”

“No, scrambled, the way your weird ass likes them. And toast.”

Will frowns. This is weird.

“Why’re you being nice to me?” he asks. “Besides the door slamming and the general loudness, obviously.”

“So you’ll take care of me after I score and then get drunk.” He grins. “I throw up really easily.”

Will sighs. Great.

* * *

True to his word, Nursey nets his first goal three games later, on the road against the Blackhawks, and then proceeds to get rip-roaringly drunk afterward, even more than Will did. All the other guys encourage it, those assholes, although Will’s the one stuck walking Nursey home and patting his back as he, sure enough, throws up on the sidewalk.

It’s not a lot, at least, just kind of a spitting up situation. Will has seen worse from his baby niece, honestly. And thankfully, no one on the streets of Chicago gives a shit about two rookies from Providence, so Will just wraps an arm around Nursey’s waist to help him get back to the hotel.

Nursey leans on him in the elevator, his chin digging into Will’s shoulder. “It was a pretty goal, wasn’t it?” he says wistfully.

“Very pretty. A pretty goal for a pretty dude,” Will adds, because it’ll make Nursey laugh and he also won’t remember it in the morning.

He does laugh, tipping his forehead against Will’s temple and turning their hold into more of a hug. “Knew it. You think I’m pretty.”

“I think your breath is atrocious, that’s what I think,” he informs him, and Nursey laughs again.

The elevator dings at their floor, and Will hauls Nursey out. He’s not drunk enough that he can’t walk or anything, but Will doesn’t trust his balance enough not to trip and sprain his ankle or something.

“I hate being this drunk,” Nursey groans. He’s leaning almost entirely on Will, and Will has to rearrange his weight so he has room to dig in his back pocket for the room key.

“Then why’d you drink so much?”

“Cause I—” Nursey hiccups and Will freezes, but no vomit follows, thank god. Will really likes this coat. “Cause I scored.”

Will gets the door open and steers Nursey toward the bed. “Can you take off your shoes and your pants?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Nursey says petulantly, as his hands drop down to fumble with his belt. Will rolls his eyes and refuses to think that it’s cute.

He goes to the bathroom, then strips down to his undershirt and boxers and fills two of the glasses next to the sink. He never really trusts that these glasses are _actually_ clean, but whatever. Nursey’s drunk, it’s not like he cares.

Nursey’s only in his boxers, starfished out on his stomach on top of the covers, and he opens his eyes when Will walks up. “I feel gross, will you stay with me?” he asks, the words mumbled mostly into the pillow, and his voice is so small and pitiful that Will can’t even chirp him about it. “Please?”

“Sure.” Will has learned in the past six weeks or so that he has trouble saying no to Nursey, and he’s trying not to think about that too hard. “But you have to drink these.”

Nursey makes a face but obediently levers up on one elbow to take the glass that Will hands him. “Fine.”

“And get under the covers, c’mon.”

Nursey groans. “You are so mean.”

“That’s me,” Will says mildly, as he pulls the blankets back and manhandles Nursey under them. He obeys, grumbling the whole time, and finally settles on his stomach again, his hair a dark, messy tangle against the white pillowcase.

“Thanks, Dexy.”

“You’re welcome.” Will pats him on the back. “But if you throw up on me I’ll fucking kill you.”

Nursey laughs, weakly, and tucks his nose against Will’s shoulder before promptly falling asleep.

* * *

The morning is less awkward than Will would have expected.

He wakes up when their simultaneous alarms go off, and Nursey groans plaintively from where he’s mostly sprawled across Will’s chest. “What the _fuck_. My head is about to explode.”

Will clears his throat. “I have Advil.”

Nursey groans again, closing his eyes, and Will stays carefully still. Nursey’s bare skin is warm, even through Will’s shirt, and this is the closest look Will’s gotten at the tattoo on his bicep. He should ask him about it sometime.

Eventually, after what feels like 10 minutes but is probably more like two, Nursey rolls away, and Will exhales.

* * *

“Could you open that door _any_ slower.”

Will grits his teeth and forces the key into the lock, twisting open the knob with a little too much force. He bows a little and makes a sarcastic gesture to the open door. “After you.”

Nursey brushes past him and drops his suitcase right in the entryway, kicking off his shoes before stumbling toward the living room. It’s two in the morning, and they’re just getting back from a long, brutal road trip. All Will wants is about a gallon of water and his own bed.

And some food. Food first. He nudges Nursey’s bag aside and steps into the kitchen, even though he knows they don’t have much.

“I’m starving,” Nursey mumbles, already stretched out on the couch, and Will snorts.

“Sucks to be you, you already laid down.”

“I will pay you literal dollars if you bring me food,” he calls out, lifting his head. “Anything.”

Will sighs and looks around. He grabs whatever he can hold—protein bars, a couple cheese sticks, an apple, a Gatorade—and rifles through Nursey’s pile of stuff on the table by the door.

He drops the bounty on Nursey’s chest before collapsing on the chaise. Nursey’s feet are wedged under his back, and it isn’t exactly comfortable, but he doesn’t care because now he’s horizontal and it feels amazing.

“I took a twenty from your wallet,” he reports. “Delivery fee.”

“Totally worth it.” Nursey shifts, moving his feet into Will’s lap, and starts to pick through the jumble of snacks. “Whaddya want?”

“Cheese stick, please,” Will says, his eyes closed, and he grunts when one hits him in the chest. He reaches for it blindly, ripping it open and eating half in one bite.

“The way you eat string cheese is demonic,” Nursey comments, as if they haven’t had this conversation half a dozen times already.

“It’s efficient,” he mumbles. He forces his eyes open and slumps down further into the couch. “What’re we watching? House Hunters?”

Nursey snorts. “According to the wife, their budget is $600K, he thinks it’s $900K.”

“Shit,” Will says, drawing it out with a low whistle. “They’re so fucked.”

“They’ll probably be divorced by the end of the episode,” Nursey agrees. “Here, eat a protein bar.”

Will obeys, tearing open the wrapper while he zones out to the familiar rhythm of House Hunters.

By all accounts, he should be miserable right now. They’re coming off a shitty road trip that ended with a back-to-back—in which they lost both games in truly excruciating fashion, to add insult to literal injury—and Will has a palm-sized bruise on his hip that screams at him every time he dares to do so much as breathe.

But he’s not.

He’s strangely content, just sitting in the dark on their comfortable couch, with Nursey’s feet a pleasant weight in his nap, and Nursey—

Oh.

Oh, _shit_.

Will sucks in a breath and gives Nursey a little sideways glance. They didn’t bother to turn on any lights, and the harsh glow from the TV is casting shadows over Nursey’s face. He’s handsome, Will obviously knows that, but…but what the _fuck_. These are _feelings_ he’s having, real feelings, feelings beyond just a fleeting “oh, he’s hot,” and that is just so incredibly inconvenient.

He’s never had a crush on a teammate before, and why the hell did he have to break that streak _now_.

Nursey groans, breaking Will’s train of thought, and he blinks. On the TV, the realtor is showing the couple an unfinished basement, and they both look displeased. “What?”

“Why does the dude always want a _man cave_?” Nursey says with a scoff. “That’s so dumb. We could make such a good drinking game out of this.”

Will clears his throat. “Yeah.” He coughs again. Does his voice always sound so weird? “A kitchen island. Double vanities. And of course—”

“An open floor plan,” they both say in unison, and Nursey’s laugh turns into more of a giggle.

Will smiles down at him, totally on reflex, and as soon as he realizes it, drags his attention back to the TV.

Holy shit. This is terrible.

* * *

Will has a lot of practice at compartmentalizing, and for the most part, he can slide his inopportune Nursey feelings into his _can’t think about this right now_ box. It’s a lot easier when there’s hockey, which there always is.

Thank goodness for that.

* * *

The worst part is that Will sees the hit coming.

Dahlberg is huge, bigger than Will, barreling closer, and while Will tries to get out of the way, he’s up against the boards with nowhere to go. He twists, trying to avoid it, but Dahlberg does, too, in exactly the wrong direction, and he nails Will right in the head.

He falls to his knees, dropping his stick, and waits for the roaring in his head to stop. God, it hurts, and with the adrenaline rush, he’s heaving for breath. Opening his eyes seems to make the spinning worse, so he closes them again. He’s _fairly_ sure he’s not going to puke, but he waits for an extra second anyway, just to be sure, before slowly getting to his feet. He wobbles a little, and there’s still spinning, but he makes it.

Will hears Jack’s voice, he’s pretty sure, and maybe Nursey’s, and somebody’s holding onto his arm. He squints, just enough to see where he’s going, and whoever’s on either side of him skates him off to the side and deposits him in front of the bench, practically right into the arms of two trainers.

They walk him back to a training room, one that’s blessedly dim and quiet, enough so that the pain immediately starts to recede, and he doesn’t have to sit there for long before Dr. Lutz walks through the door. She smiles at him, sympathy creasing her features. “Hey, Dex. That was a pretty nasty hit.”

“Yeah,” Will says, with a sigh. His head still hurts, but he feels better than he did five minutes ago, at least.

“We’re gonna go through the concussion protocol, okay? Just some questions, a couple of tests.” Dr. Lutz reaches for a clipboard and starts scribbling on it. “And don’t fucking lie to me,” she adds, and Will’s hands tighten where they’re curled around the edge of the table.

“I won’t.”

Dr. Lutz asks him a bunch of questions, both about various symptoms and ones about the game that he knows are supposed to test his memory, and makes him do various balancing exercises.

“Okay. No signs of a concussion so far,” she announces, finally, and Will exhales, lets his head drop down. Thank fuck. “But you’re definitely not going back in tonight. Come back in tomorrow, we’ll check you again, and call me if any other symptoms come up overnight. You have my number, right?”

Will nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

“Good. You live alone?”

“Uh, no. I live with Nursey.”

She nods and writes something down. “I’ll find him.”

“Anything else?”

“Stay away from screens tonight, just as a precaution. Definitely no alcohol. Try to sleep as much as you can, even though you’ll have to be woken up—but I’ll talk to Nursey about that. And let me give you something for that headache.”

After Dr. Lutz finally lets him go, Will strips out of his gear, gingerly, and showers. Whatever she gave him definitely helped take the edge off his headache, but he still feels slow and sort of tender around the edges, like his head will explode if he moves too fast.

One of the staff drives him home, and Will forces himself to eat some lasagna leftover from the night before. There isn’t much he can do without screens, so he just changes into his pajamas, brushes his teeth, and crawls into bed. He squints at his phone, turning the brightness down—he’s not supposed to be on it, he knows, but he also knows that his mother will kill him if he doesn’t call.

She picks up after half a ring.

“Will? Oh, Will, honey, I’m so glad you called.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Your dad and I were so worried, the announcers kept speculating that you had a concussion. Are you okay?”

“I talked with the doctor for a while and did all the tests. She doesn’t think it’s a concussion, but they’re gonna check again tomorrow.”

Her exhale is audible. “Well, that’s wonderful news. How are you feeling?”

Will shrugs, even though she can’t see him. “I have a headache, but it isn’t too bad.”

His mom is quiet for a minute, then she makes a soft sound. “I’m so sorry, sweetie, I wish I were there.”

Will lets his eyes fall shut and yawns. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You want me to come down there? I could probably get a couple days off work, and—”

“No, Mom,” he interrupts, smiling. “I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll call you again after I see the doctor tomorrow.”

“Okay. I love you. Sleep well, okay? And call me tomorrow.”

“I will, I promise, I love you, too.”

Will disconnects the call without looking and sets his phone on his nightstand. The apartment is quiet, and Will isn’t exactly tired, though he knows he should be. He drifts a little bit, dozing but not really sleeping, and he startles, fully awake again, when the door to their apartment opens.

Nursey’s home, and Will knows his postgame routine well enough that he can follow him through the apartment, just by sound. He heats up leftovers in the microwave and drinks a Gatorade in the meantime, going by the familiar sound of an empty plastic bottle hitting their recycling bin. He turns the TV on, low enough that Will can just barely hear it, to watch while he eats. It’s too quiet for Will to pick out what channel it’s on, but he’s betting SportsCenter.

Nursey putzes around a little more in the kitchen, and then Will’s own bedroom door opens, just a little bit, and Will freezes. He’s curled up on his side, facing the window instead of the door, and he must do a decent enough job of feigning sleep because Nursey closes the door again just a few seconds later.

There’s the sound of water running, from Nursey’s bedroom, and then the apartment goes quiet. Nursey usually plays music before he goes to bed, but he must be wearing headphones because Will can’t hear anything.

His door creaks open again after a while, maybe half an hour or so, but this time Nursey steps inside and leans over the bed, resting one hand on Will’s shoulder.

“Wakey, wakey, sunshine.”

Will rolls over onto his back and groans. “Ugh, I hate you.”

“No you don’t, you love me,” Nursey says, way too confidently. He pushes Will over a little and crawls into bed next to him. He smells nice, like he just got out of the shower. “Sorry for waking you up, though.”

Will swallows. “You didn’t,” he says, after a second. “I haven’t been able to fall asleep.”

Nursey makes a soft noise. “Is it your head? Does it still hurt?”

“Nah, it’s not that bad.” But Will’s fucking tired, and his head hurts, despite what he just said, and the words spill out of his mouth before his brain can stop them. “It was just…that was scary.”

Will knows the risks. They play with knives on their feet, for fuck’s sake, and and basically the point of hockey is large men slamming into each other at full speed. He’s under no delusions that anything about hockey is _safe_. But he feels more prepared for hurting his knee or his shoulder or something than getting hit in the head, and he’s never felt as viscerally terrified in his life as he did while he knelt on the ice, his head spinning.

Nursey’s hand fumbles for Will’s arm, and he finds his wrist, circling his wrist through the sheets and squeezing. “Did you black out?”

Will shakes his head against the pillow. “No. It was, uh, a lot of ringing, I guess. Dizzy.”

“Dr. Lutz said it probably wasn’t a concussion. You were lucky.”

Will closes his eyes again. “Yeah, I know. I have to go back tomorrow, though.”

“Will you get to play on Saturday? I guess it depends,” Nursey says, answering his own question.

“Yeah. I hope so.” Will yawns. “Did we win?”

It was the first period when Will got hit, and the game was still scoreless when he left the arena.

“Fuck yeah, 2-1, it was pretty epic. You want me to tell you about it?” Will makes an affirmative noise, and Nursey slides down further against the pillow. “Okay. So first of all, I had to play with Wicks. And you know how he does that fuckin’ weird thing, right, where he…”

Will yawns again and lets Nursey’s familiar voice wash over him.

* * *

“Hey. Dex. Wake up, bud.”

Will groans and presses his face into the pillow. “Wha time’s’it?” he slurs.

“Like three-ish. How’re you feeling?”

“Hurts.” Whatever Dr. Lutz gave him earlier has worn off. It’s not excruciating, but he definitely has a headache.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Will pries his eyes open just in time to see Nursey roll out of bed. The pillow on his side is rumpled, the sheets all rucked up, and Will is suddenly pretty damn sure that Nursey never left.

His brain’s working a little slowly right now, though, and before he can really process that, Nursey comes back through the door, his shadow barely visible in the dark of Will’s bedroom.

“What’s your name?”

He makes a face. These questions are dumb, he’s fine, he’s not concussed. “Will.”

“And who’s the president?”

He makes another, more displeased face. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Nursey laughs softly and presses something into his hand. “Advil. Here, c’mon.”

Will sits up enough to swallow the pills dry, and when he lies back down, Nursey puts something on his head. It’s a washcloth, damp and cold enough to make him shiver, and it feels like heaven. Will sighs. “Thanks.”

“Here, scooch over.”

Will holds the washcloth against his forehead and lets Nursey push him over onto his side. Nursey slides behind him and slings an arm around his waist. Will holds himself very still.

“Are you spooning me right now?”

“He who is injured gets to be little spoon. That’s, like, a law. It’s comforting. Go to sleep.”

Will is definitely too tired to argue with him right now, so he just closes his eyes. At least Nursey’s warm.

* * *

Will has just managed to unearth the cooling rack from their bottom cabinet, but he almost loses his grip on the precariously-balanced stack of pans in his arms when their front door slams. He keeps control, barely, and tosses the rack on the counter before shoving everything else back in the cabinet—he should really organize that one of these days.

“Holy shit that smells amazing,” Nursey says as he comes around the corner into the kitchen.

Will stands up, wincing at the crack in his knee. “Did you survive?”

Nursey hefts the two paper bags in his arms onto the breakfast bar and slumps down dramatically next to them. “Barely. Whole Foods on Thanksgiving morning is like the eighth circle of hell.”

Will grimaces in sympathy. When Bitty called an hour ago in a panic—something about butter and a pie recipe—Will was thankful that he was busy prepping and could deputize Nursey for the emergency grocery store trip instead. “Yikes.”

“This old lady tried to hip check me away from the eggs, it was pretty intense.”

Will starts carefully popping the muffins out of the tin and moving them to the cooling rack. “You shoulda worn your gear.”

“Seriously. I got everything, though.”

“Bitty will be glad to hear it.”

Nursey peers over Will’s shoulder. “What are those?”

“Pumpkin spice.”

“Mmm. Can I have one?”

“There’s supposed to be for dinner.”

“That’s not a no,” Nursey points out, and Will sighs.

“Fine. But careful, they’re h—”

“Don’t care,” Nursey says, his mouth already full, and Will rolls his eyes.

“Are they good at least?” he asks, then holds up a hand. “Swallow first, you asshole.”

Nursey makes a face and chews faster. “Delicious.”

“Good.” Will turns back to the muffin tin. He’s made this recipe before, he knows they taste good, but it’s always nice to get a second opinion.

“So when are we expected upstairs?”

“I don’t actually know. I might go over now, see if there’s anything I can do to help. Jack texted while you were gone and said Bitty was freaking out.”

Nursey grabs another muffin and dodges out of the way of Will’s smack. “I’ll go with you. I can, like, wash dishes or something.”

“K. Grab those bags then and stop eating my fucking muffins.”

“No promises,” he mumbles, around the muffin lodged in his mouth, and Will follows him toward the door with a sigh.

The Bittle-Zimmermann apartment is in a state of carefully-controlled chaos when they arrive. Bitty’s wearing an apron, there’s flour in his hair, and he’s got a grim, focused look that Will is more accustomed to seeing on his teammates’ faces when they’re down by one in the third period.

“We’re here to help!” Nursey yelps, holding the Whole Foods bags in front of himself like a shield. “Please don’t hurt us.”

“Did you get the butter?”

Nursey looks terrified. “Of course. Three different kinds, just to be safe.”

Bitty’s face relaxes, just a touch, and Will gently pushes him back toward the kitchen. “Nursey, put the butter in the fridge and wash those bowls in the sink. Tell me what to do, Bitty.”

Jack’s already peeling potatoes, and Bitty puts Will to work chopping carrots. Both of their ovens are going, and while it seems like an obscene amount of food, it’s probably appropriate for eight people, six of whom are hockey players, for Thanksgiving.

(“American Thanksgiving,” Jack corrects, every single time someone mentions it, and every single time, Bitty rolls his eyes. It’s pretty hilarious.)

Bitty ends up borrowing Nursey and Will’s oven for some brussels sprouts and one of the pies, but everything else goes exactly according to his schedule, and all the food is hot and ready by the time Ransom, Holster, Shitty, and Lardo show up for their mid-afternoon dinner. Will probably shouldn’t be surprised.

* * *

After dinner, the two couples share the couch, Holster and Ransom each take an armchair, and as the rookies, Will and Nursey are relegated to the floor. Will leans against Ransom’s chair, and Nursey stretches out fully on the rug with his eyes closed and his head resting on Will’s thigh.

The six of them have clearly been friends for a long time, if the easy, chirping conversation is anything to go by, and Will mostly lets the words drift over him. He finds himself watching Jack and Bitty, their affectionate body language and the easy, comfortable way they interact with each other.

It takes Will a minute, to figure out what the weird feeling in his chest is, but he eventually pinpoints it as jealousy, with a tinge of wistfulness. Not of either of them, in particular, but just forwhat they _have_ , and the realization makes Will look down, his cheeks hot.

He’s a pretty practical guy, and long ago he decided that if he wanted to do this hockey thing, he’d probably have to set aside any thoughts of relationships, at least for a while. He’s not ashamed of being gay, far from it. But he’s realistic, more than anything, and after all, it wasn’t like he had any other options—he had no interest in dating girls, for appearances or otherwise, and as a fledgling prospect, no interest in coming out.

And for the most part, it’s been fine. He was anonymous enough in a college town that he could hook up every once in a while, and he was busy enough with hockey and his classes and his friends that he never really felt like he was missing out by not having a relationship in his life.

He’s enormously lucky. He makes a good living doing something that he loves, and he has _people_ here—a team that’s welcomed him, the people in this room, and as he sneaks a glance down at Nursey, a teammate who’s become a friend.

That should be enough.

But as he watches Bitty tuck his head against Jack’s shoulder, he thinks that maybe it’s not. Will isn’t sure how many people know about their relationship, and he hasn’t quite worked up the courage to ask, but obviously these guys know. And if _Jack Zimmermann_ is doing it—

Bitty interrupts Will’s reverie by yawning and reaching for his wine glass. “So what’re y’all doing for the bye week?” he asks. “We’re going to Montreal.”

“I don’t know,” Will admits. They have five days off in late January, and Will hasn’t thought at all about what he’s going to do for the break. He almost forgot about it, actually. “No plans, I guess.”

Lardo shrugs. “I still have class.”

“And I’m just sticking around with her,” Shitty says. “Holtzy, you guys still going on vacation?”

“Yeah, bro, we should probably decide where to go.” He reaches out with his foot and bumps Ransom, then his eyes light up. “Wait, d-man bonding! Nursey, Dex, you dudes should totally come with us.”

Ransom gasps and reaches down to grab Will’s shoulder, jostling him. “Yes, fucking brilliant. You’re coming, it’s decided.”

Nursey laughs and cranes his neck to look up at Ransom. “Fine. Where?”

“Dunno,” Holster says. “Just somewhere warm. The Bahamas?”

Will shrugs. He has no real opinion on the matter. “I’m good with wherever.”

“I’ll look into it,” Ransom promises.

“Well, I’m glad you got that settled,” Bitty says, as he neatly slides out from under Jack’s arm and stands. “I think I’m digested enough for pie, how about y’all?”

Ransom and Holster jump up and race toward the kitchen, elbowing each other, and everyone else stands and follows more sedately. Will gets to his feet, but Nursey, still on the ground, reaches out to wrap a hand around his ankle. “Hey. You should bring me a piece of pie.”

“Oh, really? And why would I do that?”

Nursey looks up at him, his eyes a little wider than normal as he blinks, and Will sighs. He _must_ know what he looks like when he does that.

“So I don’t have to move. And because you love me. Please?”

“Debatable,” he says, but he takes a step back toward the kitchen anyway. “What kind do you want?”

“Whichever one you made,” Nursey says, and Will snorts.

“As if Bitty would let me make a pie for _Thanksgiving_.”

Nursey laughs. “Surprise me, then.”

There are only a few slices of pumpkin left by the time Will makes it to the kitchen, so he gets two slices of the apple pie instead and tops them both with generous scoops of vanilla ice cream. He balances two forks and goes back into the living room to set the plate down next to Nursey’s head. “I draw the line at feeding you. Just so you know.”

Nursey laughs and sits up, reaching for the plate and settling back against the chair, his shoulder resting against Will’s. “Thanks, dude.”

* * *

They have an off day on the Wednesday after Thanksgiving, and Will, Nursey, Jack, and Whiskey spend the afternoon at a local animal shelter in Providence. They sign a stack of jerseys and photos, for a silent auction that the charity has coming up, and take a bunch of pictures with some of the animals that are up for adoption.

Will doesn’t normally love the promotional stuff they have to do—he always feels stilted and awkward, especially with Nursey next to him, who seems as comfortable in front of a camera as he does on the ice—but even he can’t complain about hanging out with a bunch of cute animals.

He’s just carefully returning a rabbit to its cage when Nursey calls out his name from behind him, excitement laced through his voice.

“No,” Will says automatically, without turning around. “No, Nursey, we cannot get a dog. That would be a terrible idea.”

Nursey pops up in front of him, grinning. “What about a cat?”

Will opens his mouth, then closes it again. There’s a small kitten in Nursey’s arms, gray striped with white paws and a big white patch on its face, and it’s admittedly cute as _fuck_.

“I—”

“We can name him _Stanley_. Get it?”

Will snorts, and the young woman in a branded polo standing next to Nursey smiles. “She’s actually a girl.”

“Girl Stanley, then,” Nursey says dismissively. “Here, Dex, take her.”

He obediently steps a little closer, and Nursey transfers her over. She’s tiny, barely a weight in his arms, and she squirms over onto her back, yawning up at him. “Nursey, we can’t get a cat,” he says, but even he can tell that his voice is weak.

“Uh, yes, we _totally_ can. Cats do well on their own, and we can pay someone to come and check on her during long road trips. Bitty would probably do it.”

Will sighs and looks down at her. He has always liked cats. “What about the summer?”

“We’ll share custody.”

“Share custody,” he repeats.

Nursey leans into him and scratches the cat on the head. “Her mom was _abandoned_ ,” he says, in that high-pitched voice people use when they’re talking to animals, and somehow it doesn’t sound ridiculous coming from him. “She needs us, Dexy.”

Jesus Christ, nothing about this is fair.

“Okay,” Will says, because he’s weak, and Nursey grins at him.

“Really?”

“What the hell. We can be cat people.”

“Awesome,” Nursey chirps. “This is Miriam, by the way. You can fill out the paperwork with her.”

He swipes Stanley out of Will’s arms and heads over to Jack, who’s currently being photographedon the other side of the room with a puppy in each arm.

Will sighs and Miriam laughs. “So, paperwork?” he asks, and she gestures to the desk near the front, still smiling.

“Yeah, come on over here.”

Will hands his credit card over and signs his name a bunch of times, trying to at least skim what he’s agreeing to. Barb, one of the Falcs’ PR people, comes up to him and peers over his shoulder.

“You’re getting a cat!”

“ _We’re_ getting a cat,” Will corrects. “It was Nursey’s idea. I’m making him take care of the litter box.”

Barb laughs and waves over the guy with the camera. “Wow. We’re gonna need footage of this. Like, a _lot_.”

* * *

“Dex. Dexy, my sweet, sweet bro, you gotta let me help you.”

“Nope,” he says plainly, and Holster makes a dramatic face.

“I am a _great_ fuckin’ wingman, just ask Rans. Please?”

Will drains the rest of his beer and glares at Holster. They’re out celebrating after a win, at a fairly quiet, divey bar near Brown, and the Falcs have taken up two long tables in the back. “Absolutely not.”

“But we’ve never seen you pick up _anyone_. Do you have some secret girlfriend back home?” he asks, and Will shakes his head. He’s thought about it, he’ll admit, but he can’t quite bring himself to lie about having a girl back in Maine. “Then come on!”

“I can do just fine on my own, I definitely don’t need help from you assholes,” he says, which is true.

“Then go talk to a girl,” Holster challenges, and Will clenches his jaw.

“I’m good,” he says shortly. “Just fucking drop it.”

Holster ignores him.

“Okay, look, that girl over there by the bar. Her friends just left, and she’s finishing her drink. Go over there and buy her another one,” he says. Will shakes his head again, but Holster stands up and takes Will with him, grabbing at his elbow. “Let’s go. She’s beautiful, dude, way out of your league.”

She is pretty, Will can admit, but he has zero interest, obviously.

“No,” Will says firmly. “We are not gonna go accost this poor girl.”

“‘Accost’ is a little strong, don’t you think?”

Nursey’s just sitting there, watching, and Will makes a face at him. “Any help here?” he asks, and Nursey smirks up at him from where he’s slouched down in the booth.

“No, I’m good,” he says, and Will twists around as Holster continues to march him forward. _Fuck you_ , he mouths, but Nursey just lifts his beer bottle in a lazy salute.

Holster has two inches and maybe 10 pounds on Will, and he’s using all of those at the moment. Will resists, a little, but he doesn’t actually want to make a scene in the bar.

Holster puts on his best smile for the girl, who’s around Will’s age probably, with dark curly hair falling down her back, and deposits Will right in front of her. “Hi, there. This is my friend Will. He’s a hockey player, so he’s rich, _and_ he went to college, so he’s smart, too.”

“ _Holster_ ,” Will hisses, aghast. But he just grins and pats Will on the shoulder before heading back to their table.

Will’s cheeks are red, he can tell, and he rubs at the back of his neck. “I am so, so sorry,” he says. “Let me just buy you a drink and then I’ll leave you alone. My friends are assholes. They think that they need to like, get me laid or something.”

She laughs and drains the rest of her drink. “ _Do_ you need to get laid?”

“Probably,” Will admits. “But I’m kinda, uh, hung up on someone.”

That’s vague enough, he thinks, and true, and she makes a sympathetic face. “Sorry, that sucks.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Raquel, by the way.”

“Will.” He shakes her hand and sits at the bar stool next to her when she waves at it.

Will does end up buying her a drink, because it’s honestly the least he could do, and he actually really likes her. She’s a grad student at Brown, and while she likes baseball more than hockey, she freely admits, she knows enough about hockey to put up with Will talking about it.

They each finish their next drink, and Will puts enough cash down on the bar to cover both.

“Thanks, seriously, and sorry again about before. I wouldn’t have blamed you at all if you, like, dumped your drink in my lap.”

She laughs. “We all have dumb friends.”

“Me more than most, probably.”

Raquel rummages through her bag and holds out her phone. “You wanna hang out sometime? You know, if you’re looking for, like, a normal friend.”

Will smiles at her and nods as he digs his own phone out of his pocket. “Yeah, definitely. That would be great.”

“I’ll even let you talk about this person you’re hung up on.”

She smirks, and Will laughs. “You’ll probably regret that offer.”

They exchange numbers, and while Raquel doesn’t let Will call a Lyft for her like he offers to, she does allow him to walk her out.

He winds his way back through the bar, where Holster seems too engrossed in a dramatic conversation with Tango to interrogate Will about what happened, thank god.

Will drops down next to Nursey and steals a sip of his beer.

“Oh, look at that, you survived talking to a girl,” he says, and Will rolls his eyes.

“Fuck off.”

“I saw her give you her number,” Nursey says, and Will swallows back a chirp. _Why were you looking, anyway_? He shrugs instead.

“We might get coffee sometime or something.”

“So like a date.”

Will grits his teeth and swallows down the various rude replies swirling in his mind. “I’m gonna go home,” he says instead.

Nursey lifts his eyebrows. “You want me to go with you?”

Will shrugs. Nursey still has half of a beer in front of him, and Will would rather be alone right now, anyway. “It’s fine, finish your drink. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Nursey nods, but Will stands up before he can say anything. He says a quick goodbye to the other guys at their end of the table, Chowder and Whiskey, and strides toward the door before anyone else can stop him.

The bar is just far enough from their apartment that he should probably call a Lyft, given the chilly temperature and Will’s light jacket. But he sets off down the sidewalk instead, jamming his hands into his pockets and pulling his jacket closer around him. The cold air is bracing, but it matches his mood, and Will sucks in a deep breath, letting it sting and burn in his chest.

He knows that Holster is a good guy, and is honestly only trying to help, but it’s also really fucking annoying. It’s frustrating that Holster clearly can’t imagine a hockey player _not_ wanting to pick up a girl, no matter what the reason, and Will doesn’t know if it bodes well for him eventually coming out.

He could tell Jack, obviously. He could even tell Nursey—though Will should probably get a hold of his traitorous feelings first, before he veers in that direction. But he’s never stepped over that line before, of coming out to anyone even tangentially involved in hockey, and while this side of the line is fairly miserable and seems to be shrinking, at least it’s safe.

* * *

“Do you think the muffins are okay?”

Nursey doesn’t answer him, and when Will turns around, annoyed, Nursey is just sitting at the breakfast bar, cradling his cup of coffee and grinning. Will frowns. “What? Don’t give me that face.”

“What face?”

Will points at him. “No, not the fake innocent face. Stop that.”

“Then what was my first face? I can’t keep track of all of them.”

“The making-fun-of-you face.”

Nursey grins again, not denying it, and shrugs. “I’ve just never seen you try to impress a girl before. It’s cute.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean, I’m just saying, I don’t think that your 11-month-old niece is going to have an opinion on your banana walnut muffins.” Nursey leans forward on his stool and reaches for the plate of muffins. “I do, though, they’re fuckin’ delicious.”

Will crosses the kitchen and takes it right out his hand, leaving Nursey sputtering on the small bite he managed to take before Will snatched it away. “Hey!”

“You just insulted Charlotte’s taste, you don’t get a muffin.”

“Give that back! I said they were good!”

Nursey lunges for him, but Will twists away, stuffing the rest of the muffin in his mouth. He’s still chewing when there’s a knock at their door, and he jogs over to get it.

“Hey!” he tries to say, then chokes a little and coughs. Jen laughs and drags him in for a hug with the arm that isn’t holding Charlotte.

“Hey, Billy.”

She leans up to kiss his cheek, and he squeezes tighter, rocking her back and forth. “Hi, bug. Missed you.” Will steps back and takes Charlotte with him, propping her on his hip. “Hey, baby girl.” He smacks a kiss on her cheek, and she grabs onto the collar of his shirt, giggling. “Does she remember me?”

“Of course,” Jen says, and Will doesn’t even care if she’s bullshitting him. “We look at your picture all the time, don’t we, Char?”

She unleashes a stream of cute baby noises and smacks her hand against Will’s cheek. “That’s a real cute shirt you’ve got on there,” he says to her, seriously. “You like strawberries?”

She doesn’t answer, predictably, and Jen steps past him into the apartment. “Hi! You must be Derek.”

They shake hands, and Will twists around. “Oh,” he says, then adds unnecessarily, “Jen, Nursey, Nursey, Jen.”

“It’s great to meet the superior Poindexter sibling,” Nursey says, and Jen laughs. Will rolls his eyes.

“Very funny.” Will kisses Charlotte’s cheek again and notices Nursey staring at her with a mixture of trepidation, awe, and fear. Will frowns at him. “Do you not like kids?”

“No!” he exclaims, then winces. “Yes, I mean. I don’t _not_ like kids. I just haven’t spent much time with them. My sister is older, and I never had any younger cousins or anything.”

“You wanna hold her?” Will asks, and Nursey opens his mouth, then closes it again. He nods and holds out his hands, looking determined.

“Okay, hit me.”

Will hands her over, and Jen laughs. “Please don’t drop my child.”

Nursey freezes, his arms tightening around Charlotte, and then it’s Will’s turn to laugh. “She’s fine. You can like, move.”

Nursey glares at him. He still looks awkward, like he’s not really sure where to put his hands, but he seems a little bit more relaxed.

“Come on in,” Will says, picking up Jen’s duffel bag and ushering her inside. “You hungry?”

“Dex made muffins,” Nursey informs her. “He’s very worried about them.”

“Banana walnut?” Jen asks.

“Obviously.”

Jen groans and reaches for one. “I still can’t believe Mom gave you this recipe and not me.”

Will shrugs. “Not my fault you never had the patience for baking.”

“At least I learned how to make coffee.”

Will frowns. “I can make coffee.”

Nursey laughs. “No, you can’t, it’s hilarious. And I don’t get it—you can like, bake shit but you can’t make coffee?”

Nursey winces, glancing at Charlotte still in his arms, and covers her ear with his free hand. _Sorry_ , he mouths, and Jen laughs.

“You’ve lost baby privileges,” Will informs him, taking Charlotte from him.

“Hey!” he exclaims.

“You should make coffee,” Will says innocently. “Since I can’t do it and all.”

Nursey glares at him and then turns his charming smile on Jen. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d love some, thank you.”

Charlotte babbles happily, and Will holds her closer as he starts to wander around the apartment. She’s changed so much since he last saw her in August. Will wouldn’t trade hockey for anything, but it doesn’t allow for a lot of off time during the season. And he won’t even get to see Charlotte over the Christmas break, since she’s going to see Jen’s in-laws.

“You wanna go look out the window? That’s pretty cool, huh.”

He points out all the sights of the Providence skyline—it doesn’t take very long—and Jen comes up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I like your place.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m so proud of you, you know.” She reaches up to pat his cheek. “My little bro, all grown up and playing in the big leagues.”

“‘M not little,” Will grumbles.

“Fine, my _baby_ brother then, is that better?”

Will laughs. “Hey, you hungry? For something else besides muffins, I mean. I was thinking we could go out for lunch.”

“Yeah, sure. We’ve got about an hour and a half before she’s due for her nap.”

Jen finishes her coffee, and she and Will get Charlotte suited up in her hat and winter jacket. Will grabs his own beanie and pushes at Nursey’s shoulder as he walks by.

“Hey, you coming?”

Nursey looks surprised. “I’m invited?”

“Duh.” Will tosses him his jacket. “You ready?”

Nursey smiles and catches it. “Yeah.”

They walk to a little cafe downtown that ends up being pretty crowded, with no room for a high chair, but Charlotte seems happy enough to crawl from person to person. She takes a particular interest in Nursey’s beard, patting at it and giggling, and he spends most of the meal balancing her in his lap, eating his sandwich one-handed.

All in all, the afternoon is not helpful for Will’s crush.

* * *

Jen and Charlotte go to the Falconers game that night, Charlotte wearing the tiniest, cutest Poindexter jersey Will’s ever seen, but by the time Will and Nursey get home, the apartment is dark and quiet.

Will gets the extra throw blanket from the closet in the hall and tosses it on the couch. “Hey, do you have an extra pillow?”

“Are you sleeping on the _couch_?”

Nursey looks aghast, and Will frowns at him. “Uh, yeah. Duh. Jen and Char are in my room.”

“No way, dude, just sleep with me.”

Will hesitates. That’s…no, he’s not going there.

“I’m fine with the couch, really. It’s just for one night.”

Nursey shakes his head. “Can’t have my d-man screwing up his back on the couch. We’ve shared a bed before, it’s fine, c’mon. I have a king, anyway.”

“Fine,” Will finds himself saying, without conscious input from his brain, and Nursey jerks his head toward the hallway.

“C’mon, let’s go, I’m tired.”

Will gets ready for bed as quietly as he can, tiptoeing through his bedroom to his bathroom. Jen and Charlotte don’t stir, though, and he closes the door softly behind him.

Nursey’s in bed already, reading a worn, dog-eared paperback by the light of his lamp, and he doesn’t look up when Will steps through the door. He circles the bed to the other side and pulls the comforter back, crawling in. The whole thing doesn’t feel weird, which in itself is _very_ weird, but Will tries to ignore it.

“You want me to turn the light off?” Nursey asks. Will swallows and flips over onto his other side, facing away from him.

“No, it’s fine. Night.”

Nursey murmurs a _good night_ in response, and Will closes his eyes and exhales quietly, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart.

* * *

It’s earlier than Will would like when he wakes up, and it takes him a second to orient himself and remember that he’s in Nursey’s bedroom.

Nursey’s sacked out on his back, one arm flung over his head, and Will rolls out of bed carefully so he doesn’t disturb him. He pokes his head into his bedroom, but the bed is empty, the sheets rumpled, and he continues into the kitchen.

Charlotte, seated on the counter while Jen fiddles with the coffee maker, makes a happy noise at the sight of Will, and he scoops her up with a whoosh, making her giggle. Jen smiles at them and hands Charlotte a chunk of a muffin. “Morning. I thought you said you were taking the couch.”

Will busies himself with fixing Charlotte’s onesie. “Hurts my back,” he says. Jen hums and passes over a mug. It’s just the way he likes it, cream and a little sugar, and he takes it over to the breakfast bar. “Thanks. You want some eggs or something?”

“Sure. Drink your coffee first, though,” she says, and he obeys.

When he’s done, Will heats up a skillet and rifles through the fridge, pulling out eggs and cheese and some leftover vegetables. “Can Char have some?”

“Yeah, just plain, though.”

Will nods and cracks two into a bowl.

“So Derek’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, he’s not the worst,” Will says absently, then turns around when Jen doesn’t say anything. Her eyebrows are raised, and Will frowns. “What?”

She shakes her head a little and smiles. “Nothing.”

Jen might seem like a nice, innocent woman, but she’s still his big sister, and she will ruthlessly tease the shit out of him if he dares to admit that he has a crush on some guy—some guy who just so happens to be his roommate _and_ teammate, no less. He’ll tell her, probably, but not until she’s back in Maine, when he can just ignore her calls and texts. Certainly not when she’s standing right in front of him.

Will glares at her. “None of that.”

“None of what?” she exclaims.

“That look,” he says, waving the spatula in her general direction, and Jen laughs.

“I’m just saying.”

“No, you’re not saying anything. This conversation is officially over.”

“What conversation?” Nursey asks around a yawn, scratching at his chest as he comes into the kitchen. Charlotte babbles at him, and Nursey drops a kiss on her head.

“Nothing,” Jen says, because sometimes she isn’t the worst. “You want coffee?”

“Did Dex make it?” he asks, and Jen laughs.

“Of course not.”

“Then yes,” he says, and Will rolls his eyes. Nursey gets the half-and-half from the fridge and peers over Will’s shoulder. “Ooh, eggs. Can I have some? Please?”

“When I’m done with Charlotte’s.”

“That’s fine, I understand the pecking order here.”

“At least he’s well-trained,” Jen says, laughing, and Will glares at her.


	3. Chapter Three

Nursey comes into the living room yawning, wearing a threadbare long-sleeved red t-shirt that clashes harshly with his garish, Grinch-printed pajama pants.

“Wow,” Will drawls. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“It’s Christmas Eve!” Nursey exclaims. “And whatever that is smells amazing, by the way, what is it?”

“French toast casserole. One hundred percent off our diet plans.”

Nursey groans happily. “I love Christmas.”

Stanley meows, as if agreeing with him, and Will scratches under her chin. Nursey comes to stand next to the couch and holds his hands out. “C’mon, Stanley.”

She doesn’t budge, still chewing on and clutching her small stuffed purple mouse, and Will grins. “Yeah you love me, don’t you, Stan?”

Will uses that dumb high-pitched voice a _lot_. Whatever.

“Adopting her was my idea, she should love me most.”

“She has good taste,” Will says, and Stanley meows, because she’s the best.

Nursey huffs and squeezes next to Will on the couch. He’s lying on the chaise, which is pretty wide, but not quite wide enough for two hockey players.

“Dude,” Will says, squirming over. “There’s the whole _rest_ of the couch.”

Nursey ignores him. “C’mon, Stanley. Come cuddle with your real dad.”

“Hey, what the fuck.”

Nursey makes noises at Stanley until she pays attention and pads over to him, stretching her body across both of them. Nursey wiggles with a little happy noise, making Will laugh, and then yawns. “Well, now we’re stuck here forever, I guess.”

It doesn’t look very comfortable for poor Stanley, though, so Will carefully nudges her over until she’s fully curled up on Nursey’s stomach.

“Okay, stay still.” He hitches his hips up and fishes his phone out of his sweatpants pocket. “That’s really cute.”

“There are a lot of pics of me and Stanley on your Insta,” Nursey says, without even opening his eyes.

“Yeah,” Will says, shameless, “because each time I post one, I get like, tons of followers.”

“So you’re using me for your own personal gain.”

“100 percent.”

Nursey laughs and strokes his hand down Stanley’s back. “Excited for Christmas?”

“Yeah. I mean, sad that Charlotte isn’t going to be there, but.” Will shrugs. “It’ll be fun anyway. You?”

“Yeah, for sure. I’m jealous you’re taking Stanley, though.”

“Sorry not sorry,” Will says, and Nursey laughs. Since Bitty, who looks in on Stanley while they’re on the road, is gone for the holidays and Nursey’s sister is allergic to cats, Will’s taking Stanley up to Maine with him.

“When are you leaving?”

“Whenever you do, I guess,” Will says. They played the Hurricanes last night and don’t have another game until the 27th. “Your train leaves at 11, right?”

Nursey nods. “When will breakfast be ready?”

“Uh…” Will cranes his neck to see the timer on the microwave. “Like 15 minutes.”

Nursey fiddles with Stanley’s collar and grabs onto her mouse, playing tug-of-war with her for a few minutes. “So I have a Christmas gift for you,” he says eventually, his eyes still on Stanley, and Will side eyes him.

“Oh, really?”

“Maybe. Do you have one for me?”

Will hesitates, just long enough until Nursey looks up at him, an affronted look on his face, and Will laughs. “Yeah, I do.”

Nursey elbows him. “Asshole. Can you get it? I’m, y’know.” Nursey gestures at Stanley, and Will rolls his eyes but obediently rolls off the couch.

“Where is it?”

“Uh, under the tree. Obviously.”

They have a little fake tree, which is already looking pretty ragged from Stanley playing with it, on the table by the window, and sure enough, there’s a big box next to it. Will grabs his own gift first, which he’d hidden in one of his drawers even though he had no reason to believe Nursey would be snooping, and tucks it under his arm while he slides Nursey’s box off the table.

“Holy shit.” Will actually staggers under the weight, since he wasn’t expecting it, and has to readjust his grip on the box. It probably weighs 40 pounds. “What the fuck is in here, rocks?”

“I bought you the Stanley Cup,” Nursey says dryly, and Will rolls his eyes. Stanley meows, and Nursey laughs as he kisses the top of her head.

Will sets it down on the coffee table and uses Nursey’s keys to slice through the tape. He pulls the flaps back and digs through the box, his eyes widening once he sees what’s in there—a full cookware set, enameled cast iron and beautiful.

“They’re Falcs blue,” Nursey points out helpfully.

“Wow,” Will says dumbly, since he can’t think of anything else to say. This is expensive stuff, he knows—he bought himself a couple pieces earlier in the year, when he signed his contract, but now he has enough that can probably fully replace the rest of his older, mismatched pots and pans.

“This is a fully selfish gift,” Nursey says, gesturing. “If I want you to keep cooking dinner, I gotta keep plying you with nice stuff.”

Will laughs. “Wow,” he says again. “This is…really amazing, Nursey. Thanks. Seriously.”

Nursey’s got a small smile on, looking pleased with himself as he pets Stanley, who’s now asleep in his lap. He’s rumpled in his Christmas PJs, his hair a mess, and Will blinks, looking away.

“Okay, my turn,” Nursey says, making grabbing hands toward his gift, and Will hands it over with a faint grimace.

He thought for a long time about what to get Nursey for Christmas. He wanted to get him something nice and thoughtful but not _too_ thoughtful, nothing that might convey his pesky feelings, which haven’t yet gone away—though not for lack of trying, he swears.

But it’s too late to overthink now. Nursey tears the wrapping paper off quickly, tossing it to the side, and his mouth drops open as he stares at the book in his lap.

“ _Dude_ ,” Nursey says quietly, and Will swallows.

“You told me once. That it was your favorite book.”

Will doesn’t remember, even, when he learned that, it just got slotted into his brain somehow alongside other Nursey facts, like how his favorite jam is apricot and how he’s embarrassed about being scared of horror movies and how he’s obscenely proud that his snap streak with his sister is currently over 500 days.

Nursey flips through the book. “This is a first edition, isn’t it.”

It isn’t a question, but Will answers anyway. “Yeah. Signed, too.”

Nursey’s quiet, just running his thumb against the edge of the book, and Will tenses, his grip tightening on the blanket in his lap. Maybe it was too much.

“It’s awesome, I love it.”

Nursey’s face relaxes into a grin, and Will smiles back. “Good. I’m glad.”

“So what’re the chances that we would both get each other things that _aren’t_ hockey related?”

Will huffs a laugh. “Great minds think alike, I guess.”

* * *

Ransom sneaks up behind him and wraps an arm around his neck, causing Will to spill the champagne he’s trying to pour. “60 seconds! You ready, bro?”

“Totally,” he says, and Ransom seems tipsy enough to accept Will’s forced enthusiasm, thankfully.

“Okay, hurry, bro, find someone to kiss at midnight.”

Ransom vanishes as quickly as he appeared, and Will rolls his eyes. They’re at Jack’s apartment for New Year’s, and Will needs to find somewhere to hide for the countdown, before one of his well-meaning-yet-annoying teammates pushes him toward a girl.

Though that would be fine, honestly, but now it’s just the principle of the thing.

The bathroom seems too obvious, probably, so Will heads for the balcony instead, squeezing through the crush of bodies in the living room on the way. There’s no one out there because it’s freezing, and Will shivers as he slides the door shut behind him.

“Hey, dude.”

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ ,” Will swears, nearly dropping his glass. “You scared the shit out of me, what are you doing out here?”

Nursey slips out of the shadows and smirks at him, clearly pleased that he startled him. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Just crowded in there,” Will lies, and Nursey nods. He joins Will at the railing, shoulder-to-shoulder.

The final 10-second countdown has started inside, and Will counts along in his head. When it hits zero, there’s a distant pop of fireworks, probably a couple miles away, and Will exhales. The new year is always weirdly anticlimactic. He says a quick _rabbit, rabbit_ in his head—he blames his Irish Maine upbringing—and takes a sip from the glass in his hand.

Nursey leans his head against Will’s, and Will freezes. “Happy New Year, dude.”

He swallows and breathes out carefully. “Happy New Year, Nursey.”

Will takes another swig of his champagne, careful not to move too much and dislodge Nursey.

“Don’t hog the champs, bro.”

“Don’t call it _champs_.”

Nursey opens his mouth, like a child, and Will snorts as he holds the glass in front of his mouth so Nursey can sip from it. He tips the glass up a little too much, just to be a dick, and Nursey laughs and sputters as the champagne spills over his lips.

“Jerk,” he says, sounding fond, and Will laughs.

Nursey leans forward, wiping his mouth on the shoulder of Will’s shirt, and Will makes a face. “Gross.”

“Your fault,” Nursey says easily.

The balcony door squeaks behind them as someone slides it open, and Will steps back, too quick to be casual. Nursey actually trips a little, and Will has to shoot a hand out to keep him upright.

“There you guys are!” Chowder says, his cheeks pink. “Come inside, it’s cold as balls out here.”

“Happy New Year, buddy!” Nursey crows, wrapping an arm around his neck, and Chowder drags him inside. Will downs the rest of the champagne in his glass and follows.

* * *

Will balances both bags under one arm, wincing as the hard edge of something presses against a bruise on his hip, and rummages for his keys. He shakes the snow off his coat once he’s inside and dumps his bags onto the kitchen counter.

He goes to check on Nursey first, before putting anything away, and carefully pushes his bedroom door open, in case he’s asleep. Nursey’s sitting up in his bed, though, scrolling on his phone, and Will grimaces at the sight of him.

It’s apparently impossible for Nursey to look truly unattractive, but he does look pale and vaguely sweaty and just…sick. The trainers had taken one look at him that morning and practically frog-marched him out of the building before he could so much as breathe on anyone else.

“Hi,” Nursey whispers, and Will frowns.

“Hey. Why didn’t you say anything earlier about not feeling well?”

Nursey shrugs. “I was just kinda tired. And thought it was allergies or something.”

Will steps further into the room and sets the glass of water on Nursey’s nightstand. “Strep throat is a little more serious than _allergies_.”

“Dude,” he whines. He rolls his head on his pillow to look at Will. “What the hell, don’t come in here, you’re gonna get sick.”

“I have a very hardy immune system,” Will says, and Nursey rolls his eyes.

“If you get sick, I’m gonna say _I told you so_ so hard.”

“I’ve probably already been exposed anyway. And they said you won’t be as contagious after you’ve been on antibiotics for 24 hours. I picked up your prescription.”

“Thanks.”

“You also need to eat something,” he says, and Nursey makes a face.

“I’m not hungry. My throat is like fire, dude.”

“I also got stuff for smoothies. And ice cream. I’m under strict instructions to get calories into you in any way possible.”

“I could maybe do a smoothie,” Nursey admits, and Will nods.

“Good. You should eat with your pills, anyway. You need anything else?”

Nursey shakes his head. The smoothie Will whips up probably has too much ice cream in it to actually be called a smoothie, but it sure tastes good. And it’s cold, which is probably all Nursey cares about.

Nursey hasn’t moved an inch by the time Will comes back, pills in hand.

“Hey, didn’t you have a date this afternoon?” Nursey asks, and Will grits his teeth. He sets the smoothie on Nursey’s nightstand with a little more force than necessary.

“For the thousandth time, Raquel and I are not dating.”

“But you guys hang out.”

“Yeah, as _friends_. She wanted to go check out some new doughnut place, I just told her we’d have to reschedule. No big deal.”

“You didn’t have to do that, I don’t need a babysitter.”

“You look fucking awful, so I beg to differ.”

Nursey makes a face. “Harsh.”

“Plus, just in case I have it, I wouldn’t want to expose her, too.”

“See, that makes it sound like there’s kissing involved.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

Nursey picks up the smoothie and takes a sip. “So since you’re my caretaker and all, did you buy me a little bell?” he asks, grinning, and Will glares at him.

“No. If you need anything—like, _actually_ need anything—you can text me, like a normal person.”

Nursey nods and slides further down his pillow, cradling the smoothie against his chest and chasing for the straw with his tongue. “This is really good, by the way. Thanks, Dexy. Really.”

Will nods and takes a step backward toward the door. “You’re welcome. Finish that, take your pills, and try to get some sleep.”

“Yes, dad!” Nursey calls out after him, hoarsely, and Will sighs.

He putzes around for a couple hours, folding a load of laundry and watching a little game tape, and then his phone buzzes. It’s a text from Nursey that just says _cookies???_ with four of the angel face emojis.

Will considers it, for about half a second, and then swings himself out of bed. He really wishes he weren’t so easy. Nursey is sick, though, he rationalizes, which means that he’s totally justified in trying to make him happy.

Eighteen minutes later, Will pushes through Nursey’s door without knocking, plate in hand. “I hope you like peanut butter chocolate chip.”

Nursey looks up from his phone, his eyes wide. “Holy shit, really? How’d you make those so fast?”

“I keep some cookie dough in the freezer for emergencies,” he says, and Nursey blinks up at him.

“And how the hell did I not know that?”

Will shrugs. “Should poke around in the freezer more often.”

Nursey laughs, then coughs. Will winces in sympathy and sets the plate and a fresh Gatorade on his nightstand. Nursey reaches over and breaks off a piece of a cookie. “Shit, these are really good. You want one?”

“I already had two,” he admits, and Nursey laughs again.

“Will you hang out with me? I’m bored.”

Will hesitates. “Uh…sure. You wanna watch a movie or something?”

“What were you doing just now?”

“Watching game tape.”

“Let’s do that, then.”

“You sure? You’re not—”

Nursey glares at him, and Will cuts himself off with a faint grimace. Nursey knows, obviously, that he’s not playing against the Sabres tomorrow.

“You’re screwed without me, you need all the help you can get.”

Will bites back a smile and goes to fetch his iPad from his room. When he gets back Nursey’s moved so that he’s sitting crosswise on his bed, with his back against the wall and the plate of cookies on his lap. He pats the spot next to him, and Will climbs up. “Just don’t breathe on me.”

“No promises,” he says, and Will rolls his eyes as he navigates toward the clips he wanted to see again. “What’ve you been watching?”

“Their second line and the power play, mostly.”

“Put on their second PP unit, they’ve been doing really well lately and I wanna see it.”

“Yes, sir,” Will says under his breath, and Nursey bumps their shoulders together.

* * *

Nursey ends up only missing their game against Buffalo, and he’s good to go by the time they play the Capitals at home two days later and then head off on a west coast road trip the day after that—they win in Edmonton, lose in Calgary, and get into LA the night before their game against the Kings.

As soon as they get into their hotel room, Nursey flops onto his usual bed, the one by the window, and starts texting. “C wants to go find a late dinner, wanna come with?” he asks after a minute, and Will hesitates, his hands stilling where he’s rifling through his suitcase.

“Actually, I, uh—my friend from college lives here, and she and I are meeting up.”

“Oh.” Nursey looks a little surprised but nods and turns back to his phone. “I didn’t know that, that’s cool.”

Will takes a quick shower, just to rinse off the plane smell, and tries not to worry about what he’s going to wear.It’s not like he brings that many options on road trips, anyway, so he throws on a pair of jeans and debates between a henley and one of his nicer button-downs. He doesn’t know where he and Jenna are going, and he doesn’t want to be underdressed.

“Wear the henley.”

Will looks over his shoulder. “Huh?”

“Wear the henley,” Nursey repeats. “The green looks nice. And we’re in LA, everywhere is casual.”

Will opens his mouth, then closes it again. He pulls on the henley, just so he doesn’t have to think about it anymore.

“You mind if I come down with you? C’s ready to go.”

“Yeah, of course.”

In the lobby, Jenna spots him first, and he catches her as she flings herself toward him in a hug. He squeezes back, tight, and kisses her cheek. They lived together all four years of college—two years in a dorm suite, then two years at an off-campus house—and even though they stay in touch, Will really misses her.

Her long black hair has a hot pink streak in it, and he tugs on it as he pulls back. “Missed you.”

She grins and pats his chest with both hands. “Look at you, all big and buff.”

Will rolls his eyes and gestures to Nursey. “This is Nursey. Derek,” he amends. “He’s my roommate.”

“Hey,” Jenna says, flashing a smile at him. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you, too. Are you coming to the game tomorrow night?” he asks, and Jenna frowns, an exaggerated pout.

“No, I’m so bummed. I have to leave on a work trip tomorrow afternoon.”

Chowder shows up then, and he and Nursey leave in one direction while Jenna hooks her arm through Will’s elbow and leads him the opposite way.

“So where’re we going?” he asks, and she smiles.

“A place you’ll like, I promise. And we can even walk from here, if you want.”

The weather’s warm, even though it’s only January, and Will is just thrilled not to be wearing his heavy coat. “Yes, please.”

Jenna takes him to a gay bar, which he probably should have guessed, but it’s one with a vibe that Will likes, a fairly quiet place with cozy booths and just a small dance floor.

Will takes a breath and follows her inside. He’s a nobody, a second-pair defenseman on a team in a fairly small market on the opposite side of the country, and he’s _especially_ a nobody in LA. But he’s glad he’s got his hat on, still, and it takes two drinks before his shoulders relax.

“So you want a guy?” Jenna asks, her eyebrows raised as she takes a sip of her drink, and Will laughs a little, ducking his head.

“Uh, no.”

“You’re held up on your roommate, huh?” she says knowingly, and Will makes a face.

“Seriously? Is it that obvious?”

Jenna laughs. “No. It was a lucky guess, mostly.”

Will sighs. “I made it _this long_ without having a crush on a teammate. Seriously, what the fuck.”

“Well, you should at least dance with someone then.

Will winces a little and takes another swig of his beer. “No promises.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. So how’s that hockey thing going?” she asks, and he smiles, twisting his beer bottle in his hands.

“ _That hockey thing_ is going fine, thank you. I mean, I actually made the team, so.”

“I know! I’ve been watching.”

“Really?” he asks, skeptical. “We’ve been friends four years, and you came to what, one game a year? And now you’re a hockey fan?”

Jenna laughs and leans her forehead against his shoulder. “I bought the thing, the TV thing, so I can watch the Providence games. And I do sometimes. And I look for your name in the recaps.”

“Aw.” Will’s genuinely touched. “Thanks.”

“You’re doing really well. In my completely uneducated opinion.”

“Thanks. But what about you? You started that new job at the beginning of the year, right?”

Jenna’s face lights up, chattering excitedly about her new team, and Will is so thrilled to see her happy.

A little while later a guy comes up behind them, bracing a hand on each of their chairs.

“Hi. Am I interrupting?”

Will twists around. The guy’s taller than Will, which isn’t exactly easy to find, and he has an easy, bright-white smile that pairs well with his tousled blond hair and blue eyes. He looks very _California_ , and Will doesn’t hate it.

“Yes,” Jenna says, smiling up at him, “but please feel free. This is Will, and he’d love to dance with you and/or buy you a drink.”

“Oh, really?” The guy turns his smile on Will again, and he gulps. “Is that true?”

Will takes a quick breath and drains the rest of his beer. “I could probably be convinced.”

The guy laughs and takes a step back, making room. Will frowns at Jenna, but it’s half-hearted and he stands up from his bar stool anyway. “You good?” he asks her lowly, and she winks at him.

“Yeah. Go.”

The guy’s name is James, it turns out, and he’s sweet and funny in an easy, charming way that probably means he does this a lot. And that’s fine because he’s also a really good kisser, which—

Well, Will wasn’t expecting the night to take that turn, but he’s not complaining.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

James’ breath is hot against the side of his neck, and Will exhales, shuddering just a little. He pulls back and forces a smile. “I—I should probably get back to my friend, actually.”

“Oh.” James looks faintly disappointed but not like, _indignant_ , which is always a bonus. “You sure?”

Man, he really is hot. But…

“Yeah,” Will forces himself to say. He’s still pretty much just thinking about Nursey, and that’s not really fair to anyone.

James smiles at him, just as easy and wide as before. “Okay. Have a good night, then. It was great to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” Will lets himself be drawn in for one last kiss, then waves goodbye and heads back to where Jenna’s sitting. She’s deep into a conversation with one of the bartenders, a woman in a plaid shirt with a thick braid over her shoulder, and Will touches her shoulder as he sits back down next to her. “Hi.”

She turns to him and grins. “So he was cute.”

Will ducks his head and laughs a little, scratching at the back of his neck. “Yeah, well.”

Jenna leans into him and slides her beer toward him. “You want another drink?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking a grateful sip. “I’m buying.”

* * *

In the morning he and Nursey get ready to head down for team breakfast, and it isn’t until they’re about to leave that Nursey seems awake enough to talk to him.

“Fun time last night?”

Will nods. The room was dark when he got back last night, and while Nursey murmured a greeting to him, Will wasn’t sure if he actually woke up or not. “Yeah. Definitely. How was dinner?”

“We found some hella awesome fish tacos. Very LA.”

Will laughs. He’s ready to go, but Nursey’s still shirtless, his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, so Will sits on the edge of his bed and fiddles with his phone.

Nursey spits and comes out of the bathroom with his hair damp. “So…you and Jenna? She seems cool.”

Nursey makes some kind of complicated waggling motion with his eyebrows, and Will laughs. “No, definitely not like that. We’re just friends.”

Nursey just looks at him, his face drawn down in blatant disbelief, and Will makes a face. What the hell? “What?” he asks, and Nursey blinks.

“You have a hickey on the back of your neck,” he says plainly, and Will…did not know that. Shit. He clenches both hands into fists to keep himself from reaching up to cover it.

“Right,” he says weakly, after an incriminatingly long period of time. “Well, you know.”

Nursey’s eyebrows are still up, and he doesn’t budge. Will doesn’t say anything, and as the silence stretches out to an awkward length, Nursey seems to realize that Will isn’t _going_ to say anything and he turns away, toward the door.

Will exhales silently, rolls his eyes at himself, and follows.

* * *

In late January, after an annoying string of three losses, he and Nursey fly down to the Bahamas with Ransom and Holster for their promised d-man bonding trip. Will thinks that the vets probably need the break more than anyone—he’s still too hyped up on actually _being in the NHL, holy shit_ to really be tired of hockey—but he’ll appreciate the days off nonetheless.

They’re at some resort that Will doesn’t know much about, besides the fact that it’s sprawling and gorgeous. Will hasn’t even gotten around to counting all the pools, and there are at least three bars, one of which they’re currently huddled in the corner of. Will can smell the ocean _and_ he isn’t wearing a coat, even though it’s after dark, so all in all he’s pretty fucking pleased.

Holster nudges his knee under the table and tips his beer bottle very slightly toward the bar. “That girl over there is totally checking you out. And she’s real cute.”

Will doesn’t exactly believe them, and even if he did, he wouldn’t care. He takes a drink of his beer instead and fiddles with the cardboard coaster.

“You should go talk to her,” Holster continues, and Will takes another swig.

“Nah,” he says easily, and Holster laughs, not unkindly, and pushes at his shoulder.

“This guy. Pure as the driven snow, it seems like.”

They’re all looking at him now, and at least Will can blame his red cheeks on the sun he got earlier. He clears his throat. “I’m just picky,” he says, which is pronoun-neutral and also not a lie. “I don’t really, uh, do casual stuff, I guess, and I’m just not focused on relationships right now.”

Ransom nods. “That’s cool,” he says easily, and that’s why Ransom is now Will’s favorite.

The conversation turns to the last girl Holster dated, about whom Ransom apparently had some strong opinions, and Will rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck. He knows that it shouldn’t bother him, that he should just be able to let it go, but every half-truth and lie of omission wears on him. He’s fine with the whole thing, with hiding, if he’s not thinking about it, but that’s harder to do when people are asking him about girls. Maybe what he said will be enough to put them off for a little while.

Nursey’s chair squeaks unpleasantly against the tile as he suddenly pushes back, and Will winces.

“I’m gonna head back,” Nursey announces.

Ransom and Holster’s heads are tipped together, both looking toward the bar, and usually nothing good comes from the scheming look on their faces. Will stands, too. “I’ll go with you.”

Nursey’s quiet for most of the walk back to the suite that they’re sharing with Ransom and Holster. “Do you know about them?” he asks lowly, once they’re inside, and Will’s brow furrows.

“About Rans and Holtzy? Know what?”

“Sometimes they pick up a girl. Like, together.”

Will laughs, surprised. “Good call on getting out of there, then.”

Nursey’s smiling now. “I hope for our sake the walls aren’t too thin in our suite, or else we’re fucked.”

Will makes a face. “I’d rather sleep on the beach.”

“I was really hoping that wasn’t part of their _d-man bonding ritual_ ,” he says, complete with air quotes, and Will snorts.

“God, I hope not.”

* * *

The official defenseman bonding ritual, it turns out, is much less scandalous.

“We’re playing never have I ever!” Holster announces, brandishing a bottle of whiskey.

“I thought I wasn’t in college anymore,” Will says, and Holster sticks his tongue out at him.

“Prime bonding opportunity, rookie. Grab a cup.”

“Okay, we can’t play this with _shots_ ,” Nursey says. “I’d rather not be hungover as shit tomorrow and waste the day.”

“We have mixers!” Ransom holds up a bottle of Coke triumphantly, and Will sighs as he grabs a glass from Holster.

Ransom pours the drinks, and they crowd onto the two loveseats on their cramped balcony. Will’s still wearing a tank and shorts from when they were on the beach earlier, and he shivers in the cool night breeze.

“Never have I ever kissed a teammate,” Nursey says promptly, and Holster and Ransom both huff a little and drink. Will laughs and is secretly, fervently grateful that he doesn’t have to drink, too.

“What happens in a threesome stays in a threesome,” Ransom says, and Holster slaps his hand without looking.

“Not enough, clearly,” Will says, with a grimace, and Nursey laughs with his whole body, leaning into him. He’s warm, practically radiating with it, and Will leans back shamelessly.

“Your turn, dude.”

Will hums. He has a lot of options here. “Um…never have I ever taken a dick pic.”

Ransom groans, dropping his head into his hands, and Holster cackles. Clearly there’s a story there, and Will watches as Holster forces Ransom to take a long drink.

He twists to face Nursey. “Wait, did you drink or not?” he asks, and Nursey grins.

“You weren’t looking, I don’t have to tell you now.”

Will opens his mouth to argue, but Ransom hiccups and holds his hand up. “My turn! Never have I ever had a girl in my childhood bed.”

Will doesn’t drink, because Luke Miller was definitely not a girl, but both Holster and Nursey do.

“Never have I ever had sex in public,” Holster says, and Will hesitates.

“What do you mean by sex, and what do you mean by public?”

“Someone had an orgasm,” Ransom chimes in, since Holster is laughing too hard to answer, “and you were in a place where somebody could have seen you.”

Will’s the only one who takes a drink, his cheeks burning, and they all laugh.

“ _Poindexter_ ,” Nursey says, grinning. He gives him a lazy salute with his cup and bumps their knees together. “Who knew you had it in ya? I think we need deets.”

“You most definitely do not need _deets_ ,” Will says, and Nursey groans dramatically, tipping his head back. “Go, it’s your turn.”

“Never have I ever hooked up with a girl with pink hair.”

None of them drink, and Ransom gives Nursey a weird look. He gestures wildly at Will. “That girl in LA! Your friend.”

Will rolls his eyes. “I _didn’t hook up with her_ , I told you that.”

“There’s no lying in Never Have I Ever!” Holster shouts, and Will kicks him in the shin.

“I’m not! I swear.”

Nursey glares at him. “Well, you had that fucking hickey, you definitely hooked up with someone.”

Will shrugs, barely holding back a smile because Nursey looks so frustrated. “That’s not what you said.”

Nursey huffs and takes a long drag of his drink. “Hate you.”

“Love you, too, man,” he replies, and Ransom laughs.

“Never have I ever told someone that I loved them. In like, a romantic way.”

Nobody drinks, and it gets quiet enough for a second that Will can hear people on the beach, four floors down.

“Okay!” Ransom chirps. “Well, this is depressing. Dex, you go.”

“Never have I ever _smoked_ pot,” he tries, and the rest of them drink, groaning. That devolves into a story about when Ransom unknowingly ate two pot brownies before a team PR event last year, and Will yawns, slouching down further and letting his eyes fall shut. They had a long day, snorkeling and swimming, and all the sun makes him tired.

Nursey elbows him and leans over. “Don’t go falling asleep on me, you can’t leave me alone with them.”

Will smiles and doesn’t open his eyes. “No promises.”

He straightens up, though, when Holster laughs loudly at something, twisting in his seat and throwing his legs over Ransom’s thighs. “Never have I ever been on a dating app.”

Does Grindr count as a dating app? Will was on it very briefly, a couple years ago, before he got too overwhelmed and paranoid, but he takes a drink anyway, along with Ransom and Nursey.

“Your turn, bro,” Holster says, nodding to Nursey.

“Uh, never have I ever hooked up with someone in Los Angeles.”

Kissing someone in a bar definitely doesn’t count as _hooking up_ , so Will doesn’t budge, and Nursey throws his hands up.

“What the fuck, man,” he says, shoving at Will’s shoulder, and Will laughs.

“You’re fixated,” Ransom says admiringly, pointing at Nursey. “I admire your persistence.”

“Shut up,” Nursey says. “I’ll get it out of you someday.”

* * *

The sound of Nursey moving around their room wakes Will up in the morning, and he lies there for a minute, enjoying the soft bed. He wasn’t totally drunk last night, by the time Holster blessedly called the game over, and he feels mostly fine now. Nothing that won’t be cured by a shower and some water, at least.

“Morning.”

Nursey doesn’t have a shirt on, and Will blinks. “Hi.”

“Wanna go for a run on the beach?”

Will makes a face but rolls over and nods. He should try to work out at least some, just so he doesn’t feel like a beached whale when they get back to practice in a few days.

“Sure. Are Rans and Holtzy coming?”

“They’re hungover as shit,” Nursey says cheerfully, and Will laughs.

“Remind me later to chirp them for being old.”

“Gladly.” Nursey reaches over to swat at his leg through the comforter. “C’mon, let’s go before it gets too hot.”

Will yawns as he swings himself out of bed. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

It’s early enough that the beach is mostly deserted, and Will’s glad for his hat and his sunglasses as the sun beats down on them. They run near the water, where the sand is packed harder, and it’s quiet between them for the first ten minutes or so.

Will lets his mind wander. Maybe he should just—

He clears his throat. “So it was just, uh…”

This is a dumb idea. Will lets his voice trail off, and Nursey elbows him.

“Just what?”

Will licks his lips and forces himself to keep talking. “In LA. I just—I kissed someone at a bar. It was like, nothing.”

Nursey’s quiet, save for the rhythmic puffs of his breath, but at least Will can’t see his face. He own face is burning, he never should have brought this up.

“Sorry,” Nursey says finally, “that I pestered you about it or whatever.”

Well, Will certainly wasn’t expecting him to _apologize_.

“No, it’s—it’s fine. It doesn’t bother me.”

Nursey points. “Hey, you wanna race to that big rock?”

Will nods, thankful for the distraction. “Yeah, c’mon.”

* * *

After the Falcs decisively beat the Panthers 5-1, the mood in their locker room is pretty jovial. Not only is everyone still in a decent mood from their days off, but the Panthers are actually good this year, so it’s a solid win. February is too early to get excited about playoffs, but it certainly doesn’t hurt that they’re in a decent spot right now.

Will’s just pulled on his shirt when Ricky, a winger who they got from the Wild in a trade recently, bounds up to him and Nursey, slinging an arm over each of their shoulders. “Hella good game, dudes.”

His hair is damp, hopefully from a shower, and Will wipes away the droplets that hit his cheek. He and Shitty always jaw about who has the best flow, which Ricky claims to win because his long hair is blonde and makes him look like a surfer. Privately, Will agrees.

“My brother’s in town from Cali,” he continues, “and we’re going out. You two’re coming, right?”

“Yeah, totally,” Nursey says, answering for both of them. “We’re down.”

Will’s kind of tired, actually, but since he tries to go out with the team most of the time, for the sake of team bonding, he nods. “Sure.”

Ricky ruffles their hair like they’re kids, even though Will’s pretty sure they’re the same age, and moves on down the line to talk to Ransom and Holster.

“Hey, you mind waiting for me?” Nursey asks. “I gotta check with one of the trainers about something.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Will takes his time getting dressed as the other guys start to filter out, but Nursey’s still not back by the time he’s ready to go. He leans against the wall outside and scrolls through his Instagram feed, pausing to comment on Jen’s latest picture of Charlotte, until a crumpled up ball of tape hits him square on the forehead.

He looks up and glares half-heartedly at Nursey. “Everything okay?”

Nursey nods, rolling his neck. “Yeah, my shoulder’s just been a little sore, I wanted to get it taped, see if it helps.”

“Did you sleep weird or something?”

“Yeah, maybe.” He rotates his arm. “It’s not too bad, though. You ready?”

The bar is a short walk away, and most of the team’s already there. Nearly as soon as they walk in, Ricky makes a beeline for them, tugging at the elbow of a guy who looks distressing familiar. Will inhales sharply and resists the urge to run in the other direction.

“Hey!” Ricky calls out. “This is my bro. James, this is Nursey and Dex, our rookies.”

Will blinks. It’s _James_ , as in James from the gay bar in LA, as in James he made out with on the _other side of the country_ a few weeks ago, what the fuck.

Will’s life is the worst.

“Hi,” he says belatedly, after James and Nursey have already greeted each other, and James smiles politely at him. There’s just a hint of a smirk in it, though, and yeah, he definitely recognizes him. Will’s cheeks are on fire, and he hopes it’s dark enough in the bar that other people won’t notice.

Ricky and James move on to someone else, and Will follows Nursey on autopilot to the bar. He manages to make conversation with Shitty and Jack while they wait for their drinks, and he feels a little bit calmer after he downs half his beer in one go.

Will keeps track of James, though, just out of the corner of his eye, and eventually their gazes lock. James lifts his eyebrows a little and gives the smallest of head tilts toward the other side of the bar

Will swallows. He could avoid him. He could just _leave_ , actually, make some excuse and get the fuck out of here. But he’s an _adult_ —or trying to be one, at least—so he follows him. The bar is crowded, and Will picks his way through the crush of people, checking behind him a couple times to make sure no one’s following him.

He finally spots James again, standing at a two-top near the back corner in a leather jacket and a tight pair of jeans, and wow, he’s even more attractive than Will remembers.

“Hi,” he says awkwardly, coming up behind him, and James twists and gives him that familiar, easy smile.

“Hey. Funny seeing you here,” he says, and Will smiles, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“I—yeah.”

“Do they know?” he asks quietly, and Will shakes his head.

“I mean, I’m not—some people know, like my family and stuff. But not these guys.”

There’s an expression on his face that Will can’t quite parse, and he really hopes it’s not pity.

“Certainly surprised to see you, though,” he says, and James laughs.

“I know, right? Small fuckin’ world.” James takes a seat on one of the bar stools and gestures to the other one. “Ricky said you were a rookie. You’re not…you’re not like, 18, are you?”

He looks slightly terrified, and Will laughs. “No, I’m 23. I finished college before I signed.”

“Thank god. That makes me feel less creepy, at least. Because you definitely don’t look 18.”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” he says, and James smiles, ducking his head.

“Good, it was intended as one.”

“So how long are you in town?”

“I was in Boston for a couple days for work, thought I should come down here to see Ricky. I’m going back tomorrow, though.”

Will nods and fiddles with the peeling label on his beer. “Good trip?”

“Not too bad. Could be better, though. Am I gonna have any more luck tonight than I did back in LA?” he asks, refreshingly forthright, and Will laughs.

“I’m—” Will licks his lips. “It’s, uh, the same situation as before. I’m kinda hung up on someone.”

“No hard feelings if you don’t want to. Obviously. But I’m leaving tomorrow, I’m certainly not expecting anything.” James shrugs. “I mean, I’ve been there, man. Happy to be a distraction.”

Will hesitates. An orgasm _not_ from his own hand certainly wouldn’t be terrible. “You sure?”

James grins. “Me? Yes. Absolutely.”

Will laughs. “Uh…yeah, then. Yes, I mean. Me too.”

“Awesome.”

But Will can’t really take James back to his apartment, and he’s _certainly_ not going to Ricky’s place. “Where, um—”

“I have a hotel room.”

“Okay good because I have a roommate.”

James laughs, and Will lets himself watch the line of his throat as he drains the rest of his drink. “Meet you by the door? I gotta run to the bathroom.”

“Sure.”

“Great.” James claps him on the back, his hand lingering for an extra couple seconds on Will’s shoulder as he slides off the bar stool. Will waits a minute, checking again to make sure none of his teammates are around, before heading toward the door.

The walk to James’ hotel isn’t far, and Will stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets. “Did you, uh, did you know who I was? Before?” he asks. It doesn’t really matter, he knows, but he’s just curious.

James shakes his head, though. “I watch Rick’s highlights, and games sometimes, but I don’t really keep up with hockey outside of that.”

“Small world,” Will says again.

“So you want me to call you _Dex_?” he asks, with a little smile, and Will flushes.

“Uh, no, Will is fine.”

His phone buzzes in his pocket on the walk back, and he checks it while they’re waiting for the elevator at James’ hotel. It’s Nursey, asking if he’s still at the bar. _No, I left_ , Will responds. He hesitates for a second, then adds, _Don’t wait up._

Nursey immediately sends back the side-eye emoji, and Will taps his thumb against the side of his phone, waiting for whatever else he’s going to say.

“Will?”

He jerks his head up. James is standing in the elevator, his arm outstretched to keep the door open.

Will looks down at his phone again. Nothing else has come through from Nursey, so he clicks the screen off and slides it in his pocket. He smiles back at James and steps into the elevator.

* * *

Will wakes up in an unfamiliar yet comfortable bed, and he’s got the bone-deep relaxation that comes from a blowjob and an upcoming day off. He’ll go work out later, and he should probably stop by the grocery store, but otherwise there’s nothing pressing.

He yawns and rolls over. James, still shirtless, is propped up in a nest of pillows, reading something on an iPad, and Will bites his lip, suddenly feeling awkward. The blackout curtains are drawn, and Will has no idea what time it is—he hopes James wasn’t afraid to wake him or something.

“Sorry,” he says, hoarse, and James smiles at him, reaching over to swat him affectionately on the arm.

“No, you’re fine. It’s still early. I’m just jet lagged, y’know.”

Will nods. The room is quiet and still, and it suddenly feels stifling. His breathing starts to come quickly, and he rolls over onto his stomach, holding his head in his hands. _Calm down_ , he tells himself sternly. _This is fine, it isn’t a big deal_.

“Whoa, hey, you okay?”

James’ hand is warm on the bare skin of Will’s back, between his shoulder blades, and he lets out a breath before nodding. This is embarrassing.

“Shit, that wasn’t, like—your first time, was it?”

Will rolls over onto his back and makes a face. “What the fuck, no.”

“Okay, good. I would’ve had to give you, like, a blowjob prodigy award or something.”

“Shut up.” Will socks him in the thigh, and James rolls away, laughing.

“That was a compliment!”

Will scrubs his hands down his face and sighs. “No, it’s just—I’ve never hooked up with anyone who, uh, who knew about the hockey thing.”

Definitely not since he’s been in the NHL, anyway, or even a serious prospect.

James’ face softens, and he moves over until their arms are touching. “I would never tell anyone. I’m not an asshole.”

“I know,” Will says, because he wouldn’t have done this if he thought otherwise, but it’s nice to hear, anyway.

“You should only be out to who you want to be,” James says finally, “of course. But I can tell you that Rick would be crazy supportive. I mean—well, he doesn’t _get it_ , obviously, but he’s good. Really.”

Will nods. “Yeah, thanks,” he says, even though he knows that if he tells someone— _when_ he tells someone, he corrects himself sternly—it would be Jack or Nursey instead of Ricky, who he doesn’t know that well. But it’s good information to have, still. “And thanks for, uh, last night, I guess.”

James grins at him. “I should be thanking you,” he says, and Will smirks at him as he rolls out of bed and starts to look for his clothes. “So who’s the lucky guy?”

“Huh?”

“Whoever it is that you’re all hung up on. Your ex?”

Will huffs and shrugs his shirt over his shoulders. “No, it’s just…just some guy. It’s dumb. I’m trying to get over it.”

“Any chance it’s that pretty, dark-skinned guy who kept glaring at me last night?”

Will blinks at him, his hands stilling on his shirt buttons. “That’s, uh, my roommate. He’s just…weirdly protective sometimes, I guess.”

James lifts an eyebrow. “Of hot guys who talk to you in a bar?”

“Wow, modest.”

James laughs but mercifully doesn’t continue that line of conversation.

Will finishes getting his dressed and pats his pockets, making sure he has his wallet and his keys. He hasn’t hooked up with a near-stranger in a long time, and he doesn’t miss the awkwardness.

“Phone,” James says helpfully, holding it out, and Will nods as he reaches for it.

“Thanks.”

“Give me your number, who knows where I’ll see you next.”

Will snorts and obeys, typing his number into James’ phone. His own buzzes in his pocket a few seconds later, and James pulls him down for a chaste, closed-mouthed kiss.

“Good luck, okay?” he says, and Will nods.

It’s cold outside, and still early, but Will walks home, anyway—technically a walk of shame, he supposes, but he doesn’t think he looks too bad.

He pushes their door open quietly, but Nursey’s sitting at the breakfast bar, eating and looking at something on his iPad, and he looks up.

“Hey. Good night?”

It’s an innocent question, probably, but Will flushes anyway. “Yep,” he says shortly. He kicks off his shoes before he goes into the kitchen. He’s starving, suddenly, so he sticks two slices of bread in the toaster.

Nursey waits a beat. “That’s it?”

Will shrugs. “What do you mean, that’s it?” he asks. He hates playing the pronoun game, or lying, so it’s safer if he just doesn’t talk about his hookups at all. Not that it’s come up with Nursey, really, but that’s how Will handled it in college. But Nursey just scoffs, and Will’s jaw tightens. “What, are you like, pissed off right now?”

Nursey shrugs and takes another bite of his cereal. “Sometimes it feels like we’re friends, sometimes it doesn’t.”

Will shuts the silverware drawer, a little harder than he means to. “I mean, it’s not like you tell me about your hookups, either, Jesus.”

Considering that they spend every night together, it’s hard to hide. It’s only been a couple of times, that Nursey hasn’t come home after a night out, but he’s certainly never talked to Will about any of them.

Nursey doesn’t say anything, and when Will looks over, his jaw is clenched as he looks down at his bowl. Will doesn’t know why they’re fighting about this. He’s aware that he’s on edge, because of the obvious, but he doesn’t know what’s up with Nursey.

There’s a faint meowing, and Will looks down at Stanley winding her way around his ankles. He exhales and bends down to pick her up. “Hey, Stanny.”

“She slept on your bed last night.”

“Aw,” Will says. “Did you miss me, sweetie?”

Nursey’s smile is tiny, but it’s there. “She has terrible taste.”

Will kisses the top of her head. “Don’t listen to your other dad.” He sets her back down and carefully takes his toast out of the toaster. “Hey, how’s your shoulder feeling?”

Nursey obediently rotates his arm. “Better, I think. The tape helps.”

“Good. You should get a massage before the workout this afternoon.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

It falls quiet between them as Will starts spreading peanut butter on his toast. It still feels a little awkward, and Will doesn’t know why.

“I’m sorry,” he offers. “I just…I dunno.”

Nursey shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, it’s chill.”

Will rolls his eyes and reaches for a banana. “Don’t give me that. You’ve never been _chill_ a day in your life.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Nursey protests, but he smiles when Will laughs. “I dunno, I just feel like you…like you don’t tell me things sometimes. It’s dumb. Like I said, don’t worry about it.”

Will swallows and concentrates on carefully slicing the banana over his toast. “I’m just, uh, private, I guess? I don’t know, I’ll try to be better.”

“Okay.”

“But you don’t really tell me things, either,” he says because he can’t resist the urge. Nursey makes a face, just like he expected, but he doesn’t refute the point, either.

“There’s not really anything to tell.”

“Yeah, same here,” Will says, and Nursey rolls his eyes, laughing.


	4. Chapter Four

In a development that Will was _not_ expecting, he and James become friends. “Friends” seems appropriate enough, he supposes, considering that they text a lot now. He finally told him about the whole Nursey feelings fiasco, and it’s nice to talk to someone who _gets it_ , without actually being involved.

Even though now Will has to deal with him being annoyingly optimistic and encouraging over text.

**James:** You just need to go for it  
  
**Will:** Dude I can't just "go for it" that's the worst idea ever  
  
**James:** I mean, you asked for my advice  
  
**Will:** Did I, though?  
  
**James:** Wow, harsh  
  
**James:** Just get drink and kiss him  
  
**James:** You're very good at it, everything will be fine  
  
**Will:** You can't just kiss someone into liking guys  
  
**James:** You could try!!  
  
**James:** Where's that can-do attitude, DEX  
  
**James:** You're an athlete, I thought you were supposed to give 110% at all times

“What’re you laughing at?”

“Holy shit.” Will drops his phone on his chest in surprise. “Ow.”

Nursey laughs at him, and Will kicks him in the thigh as he drops down onto the couch.

“How long have you been standing there?” Will asks.

“Long enough to see you smiling at your phone like an idiot.”

Will rolls his eyes and sets his phone on the table. It buzzes a couple times, rattling against the wood, and Nursey gestures at it. “Aren’t you gonna get that?”

“Nah.”

“Ooo-kay.” Nursey nestles into the corner of the couch and gestures at the TV. “Fixer Upper, really? I can't believe we're watching this.”

Will points at him. “Okay, you like the _Property Brothers_ , you have no room to talk. That show is way worse.”

“Two words for you, dude: Ship. Lap.”

“I think that's one word, actually.”

“Yeah, well, you would know,” Nursey says, and Will kicks him again.

“Shut up.”

Nursey laughs, and they watch in silence for a little while. At a commercial break, right before the big reveal, he turns to Will. “Do you ever worry?”

“Uh, worry about what?”

“That we’re 23 years old, and it’s eight o’clock on a Saturday night, and we’re sitting on our couch watching Fixer Upper?”

“No,” Will says honestly. “I’m exhausted. Why, do you want to go out?”

“Oh, _fuck_ no,” Nursey says, with an emphatic shake of his head, and Will laughs. “I was just checking.”

“Good. What do you want for dinner? I’m not getting off this couch anytime soon, so either you’re cooking or we’re getting takeout.”

Nursey hums. “Pizza?”

“Yes,” Will says fervently. Pizza sounds fucking amazing. “You’re a genius.”

“You wanna get it from the—”

“From the place, yeah.”

Nursey groans. “Can’t believe we actually have to _call_ that place. It’s fucking 2018, get online ordering like everyone else.”

“Their number’s on my phone, hang on.” Will reaches for his phone, but Nursey swipes it first and taps at the screen. Will’s jaw drops. “How the fuck do you know my passcode?”

Nursey smirks. “It’s Charlotte’s birthday, you’re not very creative.”

“What the—”

“Hi,” Nursey says into the phone. “Could I place an order for delivery, please?”

Will rolls his eyes and flops back down onto the couch.

“Two large thin crusts, please, one with mushrooms, olives, spinach, and sausage and one with chicken, red peppers, and broccoli. Both with cheese.”

Will catches Nursey’s gaze and lifts his eyebrows. Nursey scrunches his nose up.

“And could we have both of those on wheat crust?” he adds. “Thanks.”

Nursey ends the call. “30 minutes,” he reports. Will’s phone vibrates, and Nursey looks down at it, still in his hand. “Who’s James?”

“Friend from college,” Will lies easily. He licks his lips and resists the urge to reach forward and rip his phone out of Nursey’s hand. But at least he doesn’t have the message preview on.

Nursey tosses it toward him, and Will catches it and puts it back on the coffee table without checking the message. They watch the show for a while longer, Will’s eyes getting progressively heavier, but he jerks back to full consciousness when Nursey speaks.

“Is it what you expected?”

Will turns his head to look at him. Nursey likes to start conversations in the middle, as if Will just automatically knows what he’s talking about, and it annoys Will a lot less than it used to.

“What?”

“Like, being here. In the NHL.”

Will thinks about it. “No,” he says carefully. “It’s more than I expected.”

Nursey tilts his head. “What does that mean?”

“Like…it’s just more. The good parts are better, and the shitty parts are worse than I thought they’d be, I think.”

Will still can’t really believe that he gets to play hockey, his very favorite thing to do, for a living, and he’s thankful for it every day. There are parts he doesn’t really like, though, just like any other job. The traveling gets old.

Nursey grins at him. “Do I count as a good part or a bad part?”

“Depends on the day,” Will says, and he moves his legs before Nursey can pinch him or something. “What about you?”

Nursey looks thoughtful. “Yeah, I think I agree with you. Better than I thought. But I’m fucking tired, though, Jesus.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

After four full seasons of college hockey, including a playoff run every year, Will figured that he was at least decently-prepared for an NHL season. And he is, mostly—he’s still playing well, at least—but now that it’s March, after 70-something games, this is definitely the most exhausted he’s ever been.

The buzzer by their front door goes off, and Nursey yawns before he stands up. “I’ll go get it.”

“My wallet’s by the door,” Will calls out, and he reaches for his phone when he hears the door close.

**James:** If you're ignoring my texts, you better be making out with him right now, I swear to fucking god  
  
**Will:** No we're eating pizza and watching HGTV  
  
**James:** GROSS  
  
**James:** You're already in a long-term relationship, you at least deserve the benefits  
  
**Will:** This is pretty good too

* * *

Nursey’s the first one that hits him on the ice, slamming into him from behind. He shouts in his ear, loud enough that Will can hear him easily over the screaming of the crowd and the buzz of the final horn as time expires.

“Playoffs, baby!” he crows, and Will laughs, turning around for a proper hug and knocking their helmets together. Shitty, Ricky, and Whiskey crash into them from all sides, all yelling, and after a minute they break up and skate over to congratulate Chowder. The Falcs have been in a decent spot for the playoffs pretty much all year, but with their recent roll of victories, they’ve managed to lock up a spot with four games to go.

The whole team goes out afterward, even the older guys that sometimes bow out, and the first few rounds of drinks go down much faster than is probably wise. But they don’t play again for three days, and Hall and Murray already declared tomorrow an off day, surely in anticipation of the celebrating going on tonight.

Will was still planning to just stick to beer, but Ransom and Holster buy rounds of shots and press two into his hand.

“This is a terrible idea,” he says, to no one in particular, but he takes the shot anyway.

* * *

Will’s drunk, but not completely plastered, by the time he and Nursey stumble in their front door. Nursey’s flushed and grinning, and he keeps yelling “playoffs, baby!” at completely random times. Including just now in their lobby, when the tired-looking woman in scrubs waiting with them for the elevator looked utterly unimpressed.

Nursey dislodges his arm from around Will’s shoulders and practically skips into the kitchen. “Wow, that was fun.”

Will yawns and watches as Nursey stretches to get a glass from the cabinet next to the sink. “It was. We’ll probably regret that last round of margaritas, though.”

“Probably,” he agrees easily. He fills the glass from the tap, downs the whole thing, and then burps. Will grimaces. “Whose fucking idea was that, anyway?”

“Shitty. I think.”

Nursey snorts and fills his glass again. “Figures.”

They went out right after the game, still in their suits, and they’re both looking a little worse for wear. Nursey’s lost the jacket and the tie, which are both hopefully still in the locker room, and his dress shirt is rumpled, untucked on one side with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He somehow makes disheveled look good, while Will probably looks like a drunken mess.

Nursey grins at him and leans one shoulder against the wall as he takes a drink from his glass. “So…is it time for my favorite drunk tradition yet?”

Will makes a face. “What, throwing up? God, I hope not. Please do that in your own bathroom.”

“ _Nooo_ ,” Nursey says, drawing out the word. “My favorite drunk _Dex_ tradition.”

“Yeah, I still don’t know what that is.”

Nursey grin widens. “When you tell me I’m pretty.”

Will rolls his eyes. But turns out that makes him feel dizzy, so he resolves not to do it again. Which will probably be difficult around Nursey. “One time is not a tradition. And that was a long time ago.”

The grin turns into a smirk. “Yeah, but _twice_ definitely is.”

Will’s mouth is suddenly, insanely dry, and he licks his lips. “What?” he tries, trying to pass it off like he has no idea what Nursey’s talking about.

But judging from Nursey’s flat stare, it’s a weak attempt. “My first goal. In Chicago,” he adds, as if Will could forget.

Will licks his lips again. “How do you remember _anything_ from that night, you were so drunk.”

Nursey laughs and takes another drink. “I might throw up easily, but I don’t really forget anything that happens.”

Will can’t tell if this is a joke or not, but he’s sure as hell going to treat it like one. “You are the fairest of them all,” he drawls, hoping to infuse as much sarcasm into his tone as possible.

Nursey thrusts his arm into Will’s face, heedless of the way it makes the water slosh out of the glass and over his knuckles. “I’m not very fair.”

Will rolls his eyes, belatedly remembers his pledge _ow_ , and bats his arm down. “I meant in the beautiful way, idiot.”

“Ooh, wow, we’ve progressed from pretty to _beautiful_.”

Nursey looks delighted, and Will just cannot handle that right now. “Okay, I’m going to bed.” He brushes past Nursey and snatches the glass from his hand. “After I take this.”

Nursey gasps, and Will extends an arm to hold him off while he takes a long gulp. “Give that back!” Nursey exclaims, laughing as he reaches for it. Will turns his back, trying to twist away, but Nursey crowds closer and reaches around him. He gets one arm tight around Will’s waist, in an attempt to keep him still, and tries to hook the other around his shoulder.

Will lunges forward and sets the glass on their entryway table as carefully as he can—broken glass seems inevitable otherwise—before grappling with Nursey until he can turn himself around. They bump up against the wall, nearly tripping each other up by the ankles, and Nursey inhales, sharply.

Now they’re just…pressed up against each other against the wall, and Will freezes. He’s never been so still in his entire life, he doesn’t think, and he’s afraid to even breathe.

Nursey’s slumped down against the wall a little, so he’s looking up at Will, his eyes big and dark, and Will’s gaze is drawn to the vulnerable stretch of his throat. There’s a neat line there, where his stubble ends, and Will can so easily imagine putting his mouth there, how it would scratch against his lips.

“Whoa,” Nursey says, slowly, and Will swallows, drags his eyes back up to Nursey’s face.

“What?” he asks. His voice is hoarser than he’d prefer.

“That was quite a look.”

His voice isn’t teasing or anything, but _still_ , he _knows_ , and Will’s face floods with heat as he looks away. He shifts his weight to move back, but Nursey’s hand darts out, hooking a finger through Will’s belt loop and tugging him close again, closer than they even were before.

“Whoa, hey, where’re you going?” he asks, and Will’s afraid to move again. His heart is beating so hard that he’s pretty sure Nursey can hear it. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Will licks his lips. He doesn’t…maybe Nursey just likes being looked at. “What does that mean?”

“What were you thinking about?”

That’s not an answer to Will’s question, and judging from the tiny smirk on Nursey’s face, he knows it.

“I—”

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” Nursey says lowly, and all of a sudden there’s no mirth anywhere in his voice or on his face. His eyes are wide and serious, and when he blinks, it looks like slow motion. Will’s brain feels like molasses. He’s supposed to be saying words, or something, he thinks, but his attention is narrowly focused on the press of their bodies, with scantly an inch between them now.

Besides, he cannot possibly put into words the thoughts that are currently swirling through his head— _I want to fuck you blind and maybe also hold your hand and kiss your cheek_ —so he lifts his hand instead, reaching for Nursey’s face, and thumbs across the spot he was staring at before. The short hair rasps against the pad of Will’s thumb, prickling, and it makes him shiver.

Nursey sucks in a breath, his lips parted, and Will can barely look at him. He looks at his hand instead, curled loosely around the side of Nursey’s neck, and he follows the motion with his eyes as Nursey’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.

It’s been long enough that Will’s nerves are kicking in. Maybe Nursey…Nursey was probably kidding, saying that he liked it, and now Will’s gone and made it all weird.

And his hand is still on Nursey’s neck.

Fuck.

Will shifts back and lets his fingers slip away, but before he can move more than a few inches away, Nursey’s hand flies up and grabs his wrist. His fingers are still curled through Will’s belt loop, and he tugs, hard, so Will tips forward, off-balance, and has to catch himself with his free hand against the wall. They’re fully pressed together now, Will practically caging Nursey in, and Nursey’s breathing hard enough that Will can hear it.

He swallows. He wants to ask _what the hell are we doing_ , he wants to step back, but he can’t…he also can’t force his feet to move right now.

He tips his head forward instead, maybe only half an inch, and Nursey makes a tiny noise that would be inaudible if they weren’t standing nose-to-nose in a dead silent apartment. Will loses his nerve at the last minute and drops his mouth to Nursey’s neck instead.

The scratch against his lips feels exactly like he thought it would, and he can feel the tension in Nursey’s throat as he exhales and tilts his head to give Will more space. He’s not harsh about it, doesn’t leave a mark or anything, but moves up Nursey’s neck to his jaw, leaving lazy, open-mouthed kisses punctuated with the occasional scrape of his teeth.

Nursey makes another noise and twists, his fingers tightening on Will’s waist, his nose nudging Will’s cheek, and then they’re kissing for real.

Will wishes he could say that he’s never thought about this, but that’d be a lie. In his head it was always rougher, harsher—not _violent_ or anything, just something that would probably stem from tension or from an argument and leave Will’s head reeling.

This is much quieter, just the gentle, languid press of Nursey’s mouth against his. They’re both mostly still, and Nursey’s hands are firm on Will’s waist, chaste and greedy at the same time, somehow.

Will’s head is still reeling, though, that’s for fucking sure, especially when Nursey groans into the kiss a little and straightens up to his full height. Will rebalances, wrapping one arm around Nursey’s waist, between his body and the wall, and spreads his hand wide on Nursey’s low back. His skin is hot, even though his shirt, and Will can feel the warmth spread everywhere they’re touching.

Nursey leans into him, deepening the kiss without speeding it up, and he slides one hand up to clutch at Will’s bicep. The other traces his waistband and slides into Will’s back pocket, squeezing. Will jerks forward, making Nursey moan, and something about the noise clears the cloud of lust from Will’s brain.

He wrenches himself backward, gasping, and Nursey opens his eyes, blinking rapidly. He looks completely wrecked, and Will has to clench his hands into fists, let his nails bite into his palms.

“Fuck.” Will sucks in a breath, unsteady, and blinks. “You’re drunk.”

“So’re you,” Nursey shoots back, maybe a little defensive, and at least the verbal repartee feels familiar.

“Yeah. That doesn’t make it better.”

Will thumbs at his lip absently—they feel tender and swollen, and he knows the skin around is mouth is going to be red tomorrow, from Nursey’s stubble. Nursey’s eyes are locked on Will’s mouth, and _wow_ , he needs to get out of here.

“I’m going to—” Will coughs and thumbs over his shoulder. “Uh, bed. Sleep.”

“Okay, caveman,” Nursey says, and the casualness of his words somehow fits with how he’s still slumped against the wall, his shirt rumpled and his hair a mess. There is a distinct bulge in his suit pants, which are already tighter than pants have any right to be, and Will forces himself to turn around before he does something that they’ll both probably regret.

He goes straight to his room, before he can just say _fuck it_ and turn back around, and face plants directly into bed. His mind is still whirling, bouncing around between _holy shit Nursey_ and _what the fuck that was a terrible idea_ and _that was amazing_ , and he just can’t settle on a train of thought at all right now.

He should jerk off, actually, is exactly what he should do, and he worms a hand down between his body and the mattress. But he only gets in a few half-hearted squeezes before he gives up, exhaling in frustration. He’s a really strange mix of turned-on and drunk and tired and weirdly sad, and this definitely isn’t going to work.

“Fuck,” he whispers into the pillow.

* * *

Will wakes up with faint aches in his quads, from the game, and behind his eyes, from the beer. He rolls over with a groan, fumbling for the water bottle that’s always on his nightstand. He downs half of it before his brain fully kicks in and reminds him of what happened the night before, and he coughs, sputtering on the water.

He wipes his mouth and flops back down onto the bed, flinging one arm over his face. Maybe if he just hides out here in his room forever, he can pretend that this never happened.

That doesn’t seem like a very sustainable strategy, though, so eventually he swings himself out of bed. When he steps out of his room, the apartment is quiet enough that he’s pretty sure Nursey’s gone. The door to Nursey’s room is ajar, so Will pokes his head in, just to check, but all he sees is a neatly-made bed.

He couldn’t have gone _too_ far, Will figures, so he ventures on into the kitchen. It’s quiet, besides Stanley meowing loudly from the couch, and Will veers over to scratch her behind the ears.

He sticks two pieces of bread in the toaster and is halfway through a banana when he hears the front door open.

“Hey!” Nursey chirps, and Will stills, turning just enough to see him. He’s in workout clothes and sweaty, so he probably went for a run.

“Hey,” Will says cautiously. He feels awkward, too big for his skin, and his traitorous cheeks are probably red. Nursey rummages through the fridge for a Gatorade, humming under his breath, probably to whatever song is playing in the one earbud he still has in his ear. “Uh, good run?”

“Yep.”

Will swallows. “You want breakfast? I think we have eggs.”

“Nah,” Nursey says easily, before taking a swig of his Gatorade. “I told Holtzy I’d go try some new brunch place with him.”

“Oh. Uh, cool.”

“Later, dude.”

“Later,” Will says, a second too late, and Nursey’s already halfway down the hallway.

His toast pops, startling him, and Will glares at it. Fucking Nursey.

* * *

Will was hoping that things between him and Nursey would go back to normal, after they got a bit of a chance to kind of process and move on, but they don’t.

Nursey goes back to acting like he used to several months ago, when he was still all chill and cool all the time and he and Will didn’t interact much outside of arguing. But they’re not arguing now, they’re just…weirdly congenial with each other, in a vaguely pleasant, shallow way that’s never really ever been a part of their relationship before. Sometimes they fight and sometimes they’re really close, but they’ve never been like _this_ before, when their interactions are limited to short, trivial greetings in the morning and that’s about it.

At least they’ve been playing at home, so they haven’t had to deal with being in each other’s pockets on the road and in a hotel room. Nursey starts spending a lot of time with Ransom and Holster, and Will goes over to Chowder’s or Jack and Bitty’s for dinner most nights.

So they don’t talk much at all, and they _definitely_ don’t talk about what happened. Will’s too much of a chickenshit to bring it up himself, but at least he’s acting normal about the whole thing, he thinks. Nursey is the weird one.

Part of Will wishes that Nursey just honestly doesn’t remember. But Nursey doesn’t forget anything when he drinks. He’s said so himself, and he also knows that _Will_ knows that, obviously, so all in all it’s just a big fucking sign that he wants to pretend like this whole thing never happened.

Which Will can do.

He’s working on it, at least. He can’t decide if he regrets it or not. He would regret it if Nursey did, obviously, but…Will was there. Nursey seemed pretty into it.

He _should_ regret it, probably.

If it fucks up their friendship forever, which he’s really hoping is _not_ the case, then yeah, he’d regret it then. But if they manage to move past this, until it’s just a small blip in their history, then at least it _happened_. It’ll be nice closure for his crush, like a good little way to remember it by.

(Not that he, like, jerks off to the memory of it or anything. He kind of tried one time, but it ended up feeling strange, like it wasn’t something he should be thinking about if Nursey wanted to pretend that it never happened. Whatever.)

* * *

Their second-to-last game of the year, their last game on the road, is against Nashville, and it’s near the end of the second period when Will notices that something’s up with Nursey. They’re still not back in their groove, which would be a valid explanation, but Nursey is shaking a little as they sit shoulder-to-shoulder on the bench. His hands are clenched tight around his stick, and he’s staring out onto the ice. That wouldn’t really be strange on its own, but his gaze looks vacant instead of focused.

Will elbows him. “You okay?”

After a few seconds, Nursey shakes his head, just faintly, and Will frowns. He opens his mouth to say something else, but the buzzer sounds and then everyone starts filing off the bench and down the tunnel.

Ransom grabs him to talk about the play the Preds scored on early in the period to tie the game, and by the time they’re done, Nursey’s nowhere to be found. Will tromps back toward the locker room, but Murray stops him with a hand on his elbow. “Hey. Nursey took off, is he okay?”

“Yeah,” Will lies. “He wasn’t feeling well earlier, he probably just went to the bathroom. I’ll go check on him.”

Murray nods and slaps his on the shoulder, and Will exhales as he watches him walk off. Where would Nursey go? Will grabs a Gatorade off the table outside the locker room and starts down the other hallway, by the training rooms, poking his head into each one until he finds him.

Nursey’s sitting on the floor, his arms wrapped around his legs, and he doesn’t look up when the door opens. Will immediately closes the door behind him, locking it, and sits down next to him. It’s a little awkward, with all the gear, to wrap an arm around his shoulders, but Will manages.

Nursey groans. “This hasn’t happened since my freshman year,” he grits out. “During a game.”

“You’re fine,” Will says, then repeats it a few more times.

“No, I can’t just… This can’t happen. What if I—”

Nursey seems more agitated than he did the last time Will saw him like this, and his breathing is getting shallower. “Hey,” Will interrupts. He squeezes him tighter. “Don’t think like that, okay? That’s not— Just don’t. You’re fine. Take another breath. It’ll stop in a few minutes, it always does.”

Nursey drops his head and groans again. “You should go.”

“It’s fine, we have time,” Will lies. He doesn’t know what time it is, but he’s surprised no one’s come looking for them yet.

Nursey once told him that rhythmic physical sensations sometimes help, so Will slides his hand up and starts scratching at the edge of Nursey’s hairline. His hair is sweaty, and Will counts in his head, trying to keep his pace steady.

He loses count somewhere around a hundred, and finally Nursey lifts his head, dislodging Will’s hand. “Okay. I think it’s better,” he says lowly.

Will reaches his other hand down for the Gatorade, sitting next to his hip, and braces it between his knees to twist the top off. They share the bottle, passing it back and forth until it’s gone, and Nursey exhales a long, steady stream of air.

“Okay,” Nursey says again. “You ready?”

Will nods and stands, tugging Nursey up by the elbow. “Yeah. You smell terrible, by the way.”

Nursey’s laugh is small but it’s genuine, and he’ll take it.

“Yeah, you, too, buddy.”

They’re not _late_ , per se, but they’re definitely the last two back on the ice. Hall’s probably going to ream them out after the game for disappearing like that, but they’ll come up with some sort of lie.

Will keeps his head down as he warms up—he feels a little stiff, not having gone through his normal intermission routine, but he’ll be fine. He has to be, anyway, since the two of them have the first shift of the period.

Nursey looks better, steadier, and Will skates over to knock their helmets together. “You’re gonna fuckin’ score, and we’re gonna win, okay?”

Nursey nods, and Will is thrilled and relieved to see his familiar, hard game-day stare.

And Nursey does score, a slick little top shelf shot with five minutes to go that ends up being the game-winner. The silence of the crowd sounds amazing, and Will can so clearly hear Nursey’s triumphant yell as he skates across the ice toward him.

“Fucking told you,” Will says, right before Shitty crashes into them, and Nursey grins.

* * *

After that, things start to thaw out between them, a little bit. Nursey actually talks to him like normal in their hotel room that night, and they spend an evening together in their apartment the night after, which hasn’t happened since…well, _since_.

Nursey still hasn’t mentioned what happened between them, though, not even with the most oblique of references, and so Will’s ready to put this whole thing behind him.

But there’s one thing he has to do first.

“Jesus Christ,” Nursey spits, jogging in place a little as they wait for a light. “It’s cold.”

It’s about a 10-minute walk from their building to the Dunk, so they only drive when they’re feeling particularly lazy, or if the weather’s particularly bad. It’s sunny today, though, even if it’s deceptive—one of those days when it looks much warmer than it is, when the shock of the cold wind burns down into your bones as you squint into the sunshine—so they’re walking.

“Yeah,” Will says, half a beat too late. “I shoulda worn a scarf.”

“Spring is a fucking tease,” Nursey mutters.

Will clears his throat. “So there’s something I want to tell you.”

“Yeah?” Nursey says absently, and Will stays silent, until Nursey puts his phone back in his pocket and looks up at him attentively. “Oh. This is serious.”

Nursey looks… _nervous_ all of a sudden, his eyes flickering around as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket and wraps it tighter around himself. They stop at another light, and Will rocks back and forth on the edge of the curb as they wait.

“What? You’re killin’ me here, dude.”

Nursey’s words are light, and he’s clearly trying for his tone to be, too, but Will likes to think that he’s at least learned _something_ about Nursey in the past six months of living with him. He’s definitely nervous, and Will doesn’t know why. _He’s_ the one who’s allowed to be nervous here.

“I’m gay,” he says simply. He’s said those words out loud before—not a _ton_ of times, but enough—but turns out it hasn’t really gotten any easier, like he maybe hoped it would. His heart is still hammering, his hands are still clenched into fists at his sides, and just like anytime his hockey life and his personal life collide, part of his brain is terrified that it’s all going to slip away, that he isn’t ever going to fully belong anywhere.

But he pushes those familiar worries down for now and forces himself to glance over at Nursey, who looks completely gobsmacked. Will wants to chirp him—“do you have to look _so_ surprised, my tongue was literally in your mouth like a week ago”—but he swallows it back. It’s probably a little soon for jokes.

“You…wow.” Nursey shakes his head a little and blinks. “Thanks for telling me, man. Seriously.”

Will nods shortly. “Not many—well, I’ve been out since I was like, 15. But not a lot of people know. Obviously”

Nursey steps out into the crosswalk, his gaze still focused on Will, and Will has to grab his shoulder to keep him close to the curb as a car zooms past. “Does, um. Does anyone here know? With the team, I mean.”

Will shakes his head. “No.”

“Wow,” Nursey says again.

“Yeah. So that’s, uh, that’s that, I guess,” Will says lamely.

Part of Will wants to…he wants to ask if Nursey has a problem with it, or if—

Well, he doesn’t know.

But he’s not going to.

Will yanks open the door to the Dunk and pats himself on the back for his timing. They have to get ready for practice now, and Nursey can react in private without Will having to talk to him about it.

Perfect.

* * *

They win that night, which is a nice end to the regular season, and all go out afterward since there are still several days until playoffs start. The place is crowded, and it takes a while before Will spots Nursey, holding court on the other side of the bar, talking to Chowder. He’s talking animatedly about something, moving his hands around, and Will has to suppress a smile when he hastily apologizes to a woman after nearly knocking over her water glass.

Someone moves then, giving him a clearer line of sight, and Will has to blink twice to make sure he’s actually seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. Nursey’s wearing a dark green flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, one that looks particularly soft and worn-in, and…and Will _recognizes_ that flannel.

Will extracts himself from his conversation with Tango and Wicks, as quickly as is polite, and muscles his way through the crush of people. Chowder waves at him from Nursey’s other side, and when he leans over the bar to try for the bartender’s attention, Will presses his shoulder against Nursey’s and ducks his head to talk to him.

“What’re you wearing?” he asks under his breath, and Nursey gives him a little side-eye as he tips his head back to get the last few drops from his beer bottle.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Your _shirt_.”

“Oh.” Nursey looks down at himself, and if he’s pretending to look surprised, he’s doing a really shitty job of it. “This? I found it in the laundry room.”

Will barely suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, no shit. That’s because it’s _my shirt_.”

Nursey grins a tiny bit, and Will’s going to kill him, he swears. Nursey turns into him a little, so his chest is pressed against Will’s shoulder, and drops his voice. “Does that bother you?”

Will’s mouth is dry, and he takes a long drag from his own beer bottle to buy some time. Nursey’s shirt— _Will’s_ shirt—is hanging open over a simple white t-shirt, one that’s low enough to show just a couple curls of chest hair and tight enough to…well, it’s tight.

And Will should probably stop staring and maybe answer him.

He jerks his gaze back up to Nursey’s face. “No,” he says, too belated to be anything other than incriminating, and Nursey’s mouth slides into a smirk.

“So, then, to summarize. I’m wearing your shirt, and you don’t have a problem with it. Right?”

“Right,” he repeats, slowly.

“Dex!” Chowder exclaims, now leaning over Nursey’s other shoulder and holding a pair of fresh bottles, the condensation dripping down the sides. “You want one?”

Will blinks and forces himself to focus on Chowder, letting his gaze slide over Nursey _wearing his shirt_ , what the fuck. “Yeah, thanks.”

They end up in a booth a little while later, one that definitely isn’t spacious enough to hold ten hockey players. It probably isn’t strictly necessary for Will to rest his arm along the top of the booth, right above Nursey’s shoulders, but it isn’t _not_ , either.

Nor is it necessary for Nursey to lean into him, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping him. He’s close enough that Will can smell him, the familiar scent of his deodorant and the laundry detergent that they both use, and Will is just _so_ confused right now.

“To playoffs,” Jack says loudly, lifting his beer. They all follow suit, clinking their glasses and spilling, and Nursey catches Will’s gaze as he takes a drink, lifting his eyebrows.

_To playoffs_ , Will thinks. God help him.


	5. Chapter 5

Stanley’s claws dig painfully into the bare skin of Will’s chest, and he startles awake, leaning up onto his elbow and dislodging her. She meows at him, clearly miffed, and jumps down from the couch to the floor. Will yawns and scrubs a hand over his face as he reaches for his phone. He wasn’t planning on a morning nap, but with playoffs starting in just a couple days, he won’t complain.

The team group chat has blown up, and as Will scrolls back through the thread he sees that most of the messages are chirps directed at him, about how shirtless pics on social media are fineable offenses. Will sighs and goes to Instagram. Sure enough, Nursey posted a picture of Will, shirtless and asleep with Stanley curled up on his chest.

“Hey!” he yells, and Nursey steps out of the kitchen with a bowl of cereal in his hands.

“Hi, Sleeping Beauty.”

Will rolls his eyes. “You posted that on _my_ Instagram?”

“Yeah, well, I know your phone passcode, remember?”

Will really needs to change that.

“Ugh. You’re paying my fine.”

Nursey drops down into the armchair, chomping down noisily on his cereal, and doesn’t argue. Will defends himself in the group chat but decides not to delete the picture—at least his follower count went up.

Will fiddles with his phone, turning the screen on and off, and makes himself speak before he loses the nerve. “Can we talk about something?”

Nursey stills, his spoon clinking against the side of his bowl, and Will grimaces.

“Not, um—”

_Not about whatever weird thing is going on between us, I promise, I sure as fuck don’t want to talk about that, either._

“About your, uh, panic attack the other day. During the Nashville game.”

“Oh.” Nursey actually relaxes, sitting back in the armchair and turning toward Will. He takes another bite of his cereal. “Sure.”

“We, uh—”

Shit.

Will’s trying to do a better job of actually using his words, so he clears his throat and forges ahead. “We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to. But I don’t want you to think that we _can’t_ talk about it, or that I don’t want to. That’s, um, what I’m saying, I guess.”

“Thanks, bro,” Nursey says, looking pleased. “I don’t mind.”

Will shrugs, feeling awkward now. “I just—want to make sure you’re okay. Like if you know why it happened, or if there’s something else I could do to help, I dunno.”

Nursey shakes his head. “They’re not, like, triggered by anything in particular. Just, uh, general stress, I guess? Normally it’s pretty separate from hockey, I have no idea why that happened.” Nursey frowns. “I…that can’t become a thing. During games. That’s never really happened before, I’m trying not to think about that part.”

“It was probably just random, like you said,” Will says quickly. “I would just try not to worry about it.”

Nursey smiles at him, wry. “You know you can’t say ‘just stop worrying about it’ to a person with anxiety, right?”

Will flushes. “I—fuck. Duh. Just reflex, I guess. Sorry.”

Nursey laughs and kicks out with his foot, catching Will in the calf. “I don’t think I said it before, but…thanks. For that game, I mean. It helps, when you’re there, because I know you aren’t going to judge me, or whatever.”

Nursey turns back toward the TV for a long second, even though he probably isn’t very interested in the baseball highlights that they’re showing on SportsCenter.

“Of course not,” Will says, a few seconds too late, and Nursey doesn’t respond.

Nursey finishes his cereal and then proceeds to fidget incessantly, moving from the chair to the floor back to the chair, until Will throws a pillow at him.

“Maybe I should go for a run.”

“No,” Will says firmly. “You should definitely _not_ do that.”

Nursey actually _pouts_ , because he’s secretly seven years old. “What, why not.”

“Because we need to be like, relaxing.”

“But running is relaxing,” Nursey argues.

“Not for your body.”

Nursey flops back onto the couch and groans. “Please don’t suggest watching more tape. I cannot think about the Hurricanes anymore, I just can’t.”

Will doesn’t want to see any more of Carolina, either. “I need some new shirts,” he says instead, and predictably, Nursey looks up from his phone, intrigued. “We could go to the mall.”

It’s not a lie, really—he does need a couple new shirts, eventually, but it isn’t exactly a pressing matter, either.

“There aren’t that many great stores in the mall.”

“I mean, no, this isn’t New York. But there’s like, a Nordstrom.”

“Okay, let’s do it.”

Will reaches for his phone. “I’ll see if Chowder wants to come.”

“Rookie trip to the mall! Let me go shower.”

* * *

The mall is pretty dead, since it’s the middle of the day on a Tuesday, and they pretty much have Nordstrom to themselves. Chowder is looking at ties, and Will flicks through a rack of shirts, pausing at one.

“No, that one’s ugly.” Nursey takes the shirt out of his hands and puts it back on the rack. “Did you miss out on the gay gene that helps you with clothes?”

“Fuck you,” Will says automatically. It’s literally the first time that Nursey has mentioned the gay thing since they talked about it the first time, and it’s a chirp—figures. “And yes, I did.”

Nursey laughs and reaches for another shirt. “Do this one, you look nice in green.”

Will makes a face but folds it over his arm anyway. He finds some shirts that they actually both agree on, and Nursey drags him over to the jeans section, over Will’s protests that he doesn’t really need any new jeans.

Finally Will calls a stop to this whole thing, once his arms are mostly full, and Nursey actually follows him into the dressing room. “Oh my god, get out of here.”

“I see you naked all the time, relax.”

That thought does _not_ help Will relax. “Go away.”

Nursey folds his arms across his chest and glares right back. “C’mon. Put the jeans on.”

“I _will_ put the jeans on, just as soon as you leave.”

Nursey huffs a little and rolls his eyes but obediently takes a step backward toward the door. “Fine. You have to show me, though.”

“No promises,” Will says, shutting the door in Nursey’s face. He does try on the jeans, though, and makes a face at himself in the mirror. They’re nice, he supposes, but they’re also…tight. “I don’t know if I can pay $200 for a pair of jeans.”

“Yes, you can,” Nursey calls back. “Come on out here.”

Will does, reluctantly, and as soon as he opens the door Nursey tugs at his arm until he’s in front of the mirror.

“Okay, yes, you _definitely_ can pay $200 for that pair of jeans.”

Will frowns at his reflection and twists. “I dunno. Aren’t they a little—”

“C!” Nursey calls out. “Tell Dex that his ass looks great in these jeans.”

Chowder pokes his head out of the next dressing room and grins. “Wow! Yeah, Dex, definitely. You should get those.”

“Vote’s two-to-one,” Nursey says easily, pushing Will back toward his dressing room. “You’ve been overruled, sorry, you’re getting them. Try on that shirt next, please.”

“Who died and made you my personal shopper,” Will mutters, closing the door behind him.

“I heard that! And now I’m taking an extra 10 percent!”

* * *

They head to Raleigh after splitting the first two games at the Dunk. The Falcs won decisively in game one, lifted along by the home crowd, but they were perhaps a little too over-confident going into game two, and the Hurricanes basically steamrolled them.

Will knew the playoffs would be on another level, obviously, but it’s even a tick beyond what he was expecting. The games are faster—reckless, almost, with how little the refs seem to care about policing anything too far to one side—and the hits are harder. Everyone is locked-in and unbelievably focused, thinking of nothing but how to improve their game with every second of the day, and the thought that this could last for weeks on end is terrifyingly exciting, and also just…terrifying.

Nursey drops his small duffel on the desk. “Are there any dinner plans?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“You wanna go anywhere? I think I saw an Italian place around the corner, it looked pretty nice.”

Will drops back onto the bed, his arms spread, and yawns. “Nah. I’m about 30 seconds from putting on my pajamas. Let’s just do room service.”

“No way. Room service is always so disappointing.” Nursey pushes at Will’s foot, and Will half-heartedly kicks at him. “C’mon.”

“I’m basically asleep already, I really don’t wanna go anywhere.”

“There’s a Chipotle across the street,” Nursey says, and Will reconsiders. Chipotle would definitely be better than room service.

“Okay, I think I can make it that far.”

He starts to sit up, but Nursey pushes him back down. “I can go get it and bring it back,” he says, and well, Will isn’t going to turn down that offer.

“Wow, thanks.”

Nursey’s already headed toward the door, sliding his wallet into his back pocket. “No problem. Pick out a movie to watch.”

Will takes a quick shower, changes into sweats, and flips channels on the TV until he finds HBO, which is about to start some recent Marvel movie that Will hasn’t seen.

Nursey comes back with grease-stained bags that smell amazing and a smaller CVS bag. Will takes it from him and peers inside.

“Can’t watch a movie without candy,” Nursey explains as Will tips out two bags, Reese’s Pieces and M&Ms.

“Nice. Thanks for getting this, by the way. Can I pay you back?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.”

The movie is starting, so Will unpacks the food on his bed while Nursey changes into sleep shorts and a Falcs t-shirt. Will is hungry all the time now, basically, so he pretty much inhales his burrito and almost wishes that Nursey bought him a second one.

After they finish eating, Nursey flips off the light on the nightstand and joins Will in leaning against the headboard. It’s a queen, so there’s plenty of room, but Nursey’s heavy and warm, where they’re pressed together from shoulder to thigh, and—holy shit.

_This is a date_ , Will thinks.

“What?”

Shit.

Will turns his head. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, you said that out loud.”

“No, I didn’t,” Will says automatically, and Nursey raises an eyebrow. “Okay, fine. But I stand by it.”

Nursey snorts. “If you think a Derek Nurse date involves _Chipotle takeout_ in a hotel room, then you’re crazy. I have standards.”

“I mean,” Will says, gesturing, “it is dinner and a movie.”

Nursey rolls his eyes. “Just—just shut up and pass the Reese’s Pieces.”

Will bites back a smile and tips a handful into his cupped palm before passing the bag over. “Just don’t do the whole fake-stretch-arm-over-the-shoulders thing, that seems beneath you.”

“ _Hate_ you,” Nursey says emphatically, crunching down loudly on a mouthful of Reese’s Pieces, and Will laughs. “That seems more like a move you would pull, anyway.”

“Uh, no. I actually have game beyond like, a 16-year-old.”

“Fake news. That’s me, not you.”

_You seemed to like it last time_ , Will wants to say, but doesn’t.

“Sure,” he says easily. He made the first move last time, anyway, Nursey can do it if he wants to. “I mean, I don’t believe you, but sure.”

Nursey drops the bag of candy onto the nightstand and shoves Will over. He goes easily, laughing, and Nursey swings a leg over his waist, both of his hands braced on Will’s shoulders. “You are the actual worst.”

“Yeah, really seems like you think so.”

“Shut up,” Nursey says again, then kisses him. Will opens to him readily, because he’s not actually interested in playing games, and hooks an arm around Nursey’s neck to keep him close. The kiss is eager, bordering on sloppy, and Will slides a hand up Nursey’s side under his shirt. This feels _familiar_ , which it shouldn’t really, not after they’ve made out exactly one time.

_Twice now_ , Will corrects in his head.

Nursey pulls back far enough to breathe, and Will smirks. “It was a fucking date.”

“Shut up,” Nursey hisses. “You didn’t wanna go anywhere, asshole, I had to improvise.”

Will laughs, he can’t help it, and takes advantage of Nursey’s indignation to roll them over. He presses their mouths together again, over and over and over, and Nursey’s hands are restless on his back, coming up to tangle briefly in his hair and then slipping down to his low back, under his shirt.

Will’s so preoccupied with the curve of Nursey’s cheek under his thumb, the slick slide of his tongue, the little hitch of his breath, that it takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize that someone’s knocking on their door.

Nursey whines as Will pulls back, just the smallest of sounds under his breath, and Will tips forward again, can’t help but kiss him.

“I should, um—”

Will blinks, and Nursey smiles up at him, softer and more genuine than the expressions on his face that Will usually sees.

“You should go get rid of whoever that is.”

“Yeah.” Will coughs. “That.”

The knocking starts up again, louder this time, and Nursey pushes at Will’s chest with one hand, even though his other is still curled around the back of Will’s neck. “Go. Then come back.”

“Right.” Will pushes back, up onto his hands and knees, and he feels Nursey’s hand slip off his neck as if it were in slow motion.

Will stands up on shaky legs—he feels drunk, almost, and he hopes that whoever’s at the door won’t be able to see it all over his face. He takes a deep breath before he unhooks the deadbolt and opens the door.

It’s Chowder, with red, downcast eyes, his lower lip caught between his teeth. It looks _wrong_ to see him without a smile on his face, and Will just wants to wrap him up into a hug. “Shit, C, what’s wrong?”

Chowder looks down, his fingers clenching around his phone. “Farms and I…we had a fight. It was dumb, but I just—”

“Come in, come in.” Will grabs his arm and pulls him inside, tugging him in for a half-hug.

Nursey’s turned the lamp back on and made a valiant effort of smoothing the rumpled blankets, but the scene still doesn’t look completely inconspicuous. Chowder would certainly notice if he weren’t otherwise occupied, but at least he probably won’t mention it right now.

Will pushes him toward the bed and climbs in next to him. “Wanna watch the movie or talk about it?”

“Movie,” Chowder says, sniffling. “It just—it was dumb, I think. I’m stressed cause of the…playoffs, obviously, and she’s going through finals right now, and we just, like, haven’t been talking enough, I don’t think? So we were both short with each other, and grumpy, ugh. Fuck.”

Nursey wraps an arm around Chowder’s neck and tugs him in to plant a smacking kiss on his temple. “It’ll work out. You two are meant to be. Give her a little bit of time to cool down, then you can call her again later or in the morning.”

Will pats his thigh. “You want some M&Ms?” he asks, and Chowder nods.

“Yes, please,” he says, and he holds out his hand. “What movie are we watching?”

“I have no idea,” Will says honestly, and Chowder laughs.

* * *

They drop game three.

Will thought he was used to playing teams back-to-back, since they did it a lot in college, but it’s a whole different level in the NHL. It seems like Carolina can predict and anticipate every single thing that they’re going to do, and it’s frustrating as hell.

Will’s shoulder is kind of wrenched right now, thanks to an overzealous check in the second period, and to add insult to literal injury, Nursey has stopped talking to him.

Again.

They were fine the following morning, after sending Chowder on his way with strict instructions to call Farmer, but then…nothing.

Well, to be fair, actually, Nursey is still speaking to him, but only about game-related or logistical things. Nothing else apart from that, let alone addressing what actually might or might not be going on with them.

Great.

* * *

Practice before game four is an utter shit show. No one seems to be on top of their game, and Will is no exception. He screws up an easy, standard play and has to take a few steady, deep breaths to keep from breaking his stick over his knee.

“Poindexter!” Hall yells as he skates by. “Get your shit together, c’mon. Head in the game.”

Nursey gives him an encouraging tap on the shins with his stick, but Will ignores him until it’s their turn to go again.

They manage to win, though, by the skin of their teeth, thanks to Jack—the true _fucking_ beaut that is Jack Zimmerman—who sneaks one through the five-hole three minutes into overtime.

* * *

He and Nursey spend their off day watching movies in their apartment, but there’s about two feet of space between them on the couch, and Nursey is unfailingly polite each time he gets up, asking Will if he can get him anything, like Will is a guest in his own apartment.

It’s weird, and Will doesn’t like it.

* * *

They take game five, too, but it feels like they barely get half a second to enjoy it before they’re headed back to the airport, back to Raleigh.

One of Will’s mostly deeply-held secrets is that he hates flying. He’s too rational to actually be _scared_ of it—statistically, driving to the airport is about a million times more dangerous than the flight, he knows that, he’s not an idiot—but it unnerves him nonetheless.

He knows that it should be low on his list of playoff-related concerns, behind his sore shoulder and the fact that he’s eating at what seems like every hour of the day yet still losing weight, but whatever. It’s the playoffs, and he’s going to fucking complain.

* * *

He’s not going to complain about losing game six, though, because the Hurricanes came blazing out of the gate, ready to win on their home turf, and the Falcs just couldn’t keep up.

The mood in the visitors’ locker room afterward is somber, to say the least, and Will and Nursey don’t talk as they trudge onto yet another plane.

He’s just tired—not only physically, which is so obvious and constant that it’s just part of his life now, but mentally. He’s tired of seeing Carolina all the fucking time, on the ice and in his head, he’s tired of being on planes, and he’s tired of thinking about fucking Nursey.

* * *

But they win game seven.

* * *

Everyone is tired and bruised and practically incoherent with giddy exhaustion, but they take over a bar anyway. Nursey’s handsy again, tipsy and laughing and draping various parts of his body over Will’s at every possible opportunity.

Will likes it, obviously—you’d probably be hard-pressed to find someone who _didn’t_ enjoy Derek Nurse shooting that smile in their direction and hanging over them—but at the same time, every casual touch feels like it’s brushing over a raw nerve, making Will twitch.

“Stop,” Will says finally, once they have a small semblance of privacy by feature of being alone in a crowd, and Nursey freezes, half-draped over Will’s shoulder from behind as they wait in the crush for the bar.

“What?” Nursey says quietly in his ear, and Will swallows.

There’s no way to say _I literally cannot focus on my job if we keep doing this_ in a way that’s not embarrassing, so…whatever. Will closes his eyes.

“This—whatever we’re doing. This hot-and-cold thing. I just can’t,” he whispers. “With everything’s that’s going on, and the playoffs, and we’re not…I just can’t deal with this, too.”

Nursey’s breath is loud in his ear, and he rests his head heavily against Will’s for a brief second before pulling back and putting a few inches of space between them.

“Okay,” he says softly.

* * *

The wait before the start of the second series is even worse than the wait before the first one. Will is antsy, like he needs to go play _right now_ while they still have the momentum from their win, but he can’t exactly do that at the moment, while he’s staring up at the ceiling in his dark bedroom, unable to sleep.

He’s worrying about how they’re going to play and even who it will be. Game seven in the other series is tonight, and Will doesn’t want to watch it, even though he knows he probably should. He’d rather not face the Rangers _or_ the Flyers, thanks.

He finally admits defeat and rolls over, fumbling for his phone on his nightstand. It’s 4:45, and it feels like he’s been tossing and turning for hours—he’ll have to take a nap later, a long one. He scrolls through Twitter and pauses at a tweet from Bitty, then double-checks the time stamp. He switches to text.

**Will:** Why are you awake?  
  
**Bitty:** Why are YOU awake?  
  
**Will:** Fair point. I can't sleep  
  
**Bitty:** Ugh me neither. Wanna talk?  
  
**Will:** The terrace?  
  
**Bitty:** I'll bring the coffee, you bring the snacks  
  
**Will:** See you in 10

Will rolls out of bed and yanks a hoodie on, otherwise not bothering to change out of his sleep clothes. He creeps past Nursey’s half-closed door, careful to be quiet on the squeaky spots on the hardwoods. Stanley looks up from her spot on the couch, meowing at him softly, and he shushes her as he scratches under her chin. He still has some banana bread left, from when he and Bitty stress-baked a few days ago, so he cuts a couple of thick slices from the loaf on the counter and wraps them in plastic wrap.

When he gets up to the terrace Bitty’s already there, wearing a giant Falconers hoodie that probably belongs to Jack, and Will curls up in the armchair next to him. “Hey.”

“Mornin’.” Bitty smiles at him and hands over one of the travel coffee mugs he’s holding, and Will exchanges it for a piece of banana bread.

“Thanks.”

The first rays of light are just starting to peek over the horizon, brightening the sky, and Will takes a deep breath, letting the cool air settle into his lungs.

Bitty takes a bite of the banana bread and groans. “Man, this is much better than laying on the couch and trying to sleep.”

Will looks over at him. “Please don’t tell me that Jack kicks you out of bed during playoffs.”

Bitty laughs. “Oh, lord no. But sometimes I know I won’t be able to go back to sleep, so I just get out of bed to avoid bothering him.”

“How’s Jack doing?”

“If I have to hear him talk about the damn power play one more time…”

Bitty trails off, sounding vaguely threatening, but he looks tremendously fond as he shakes his head. Will recognizes the feeling, unfortunately.

“More importantly, how’re _you_ doing?” he says, and Bitty laughs.

“Okay. I know what to expect, I guess. We’ve been through playoffs before, so I know how Jack gets.”

Will grimaces. Jack’s hockey robot tendencies seem to be strengthening as the playoffs go on, and he can’t imagine that’d be easy to live with. “Intense, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bitty says with a snort. “He’s better than he used to be, at least. He knows now that he can’t actually watch game tape 24 hours a day, and he’s actually interested in what’s happening in my life, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Will says, and Bitty waves a hand.

“No, I’m just exaggerating, it’s fine. We had kind of a tough time the first year, but it’s all good now.”

Will nods. It’s easy for hockey to take over their lives to an artificially-elevated degree even during the regular season, and it’s even worse during playoffs. Will’s not exempt from that, either—communication with his friends and family for the most part goes by the wayside, save for his daily FaceTime calls with Jen and Charlotte, in favor of eating or sleeping or practicing or watching tape or doing literally anything that might give him an edge.

And worrying about whatever’s going on with him and Nursey does _not_ count as something that gives him an edge, so he’s trying to avoid that as much as possible. They’re mostly normal with each other now, after that night at the bar, except for the giant elephant in the room that they’re both steadfastly ignoring. But now that they’ve talked about it, even if it was half of a conversation in a crowded bar, Will can just put it aside, for the next however many weeks they’re lucky enough to be in the playoffs.

“Will?”

“Huh?”

He looks up, and Bitty’s smiling at him. “I asked how you were doing.”

“Oh.” Will tugs his hood up over his hair. “I’m, uh, I’m fine. Why?”

Bitty shrugs. “Just looks like somethin’s on your mind.”

“No, I’m good.” Will puts on a smile. “Just…playoffs.”

Bitty doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t press, either.

Will really wishes he could tell him. He and Bitty have gotten fairly close over the past several months, and he can obviously trust him. But Will doesn’t know if he’s ready to tell anyone else on the team yet, and he’s not sure if it would be fair to Bitty to expect him to keep that secret from Jack.

Will takes a swig of his coffee and listens to Bitty chatter about Lardo’s recent show as they watch the sun rise.

* * *

The Falcs don’t have home ice advantage in the second round, and they have to go play the fucking Flyers. Will hates them, everything from their ugly jerseys to their ugly fans to the ugly sneer on Richardson’s face as he checks Will into the boards, right into his still-sore shoulder.

Fuckers, all of them.

* * *

“I cannot fucking _believe_ you.”

Will grimaces and very carefully lays his arm over his face to block out the light.

“Could you not yell, please? Everything is like, throbbing.”

Nursey mutters something, under his breath this time, and Will winces again when their hotel room door slams shut. It’s blissfully silent for a couple minutes, just the air conditioner humming quietly, until the door opens again.

The bed shifts, startling him, and he drops his arm to see Nursey sitting next to his hip, reaching for his face. “Close your eye again,” he commands, and Will obeys.

Nursey has ice, wrapped in something soft, and it feels blissful against the ache spreading down Will’s cheekbone.

“I cannot believe you fought that asshole. He’s what, six-five?”

“Hey, I’m pretty big. And he hit me first,” Will adds. He doesn’t like fighting, actually, he doesn’t really think it has a place in the game anymore, but if a fucking Flyer takes a swing at him, Will’s going to hit back. “I didn’t lose.”

“You didn’t lose,” Nursey concedes. “You didn’t win, though.”

The refs broke the fight up pretty quickly, anyway, it didn’t last long enough for any blood to be spilled or for anything else beyond matching minors.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” Will admits. “How’s it look?”

Nursey lifts the ice, and Will tries to smile. Nursey looks unimpressed and quickly replaces the ice. “A little swollen. It’ll probably be gnarly tomorrow.”

“Badass,” Will corrects, and Nursey snorts.

“Yeah, if you like thugs.”

Will bites back whatever he wants to say to that and reaches up his own hand to hold the ice, dislodging Nursey’s. “Thanks. For the ice, it helps.”

“Good.”

Will closes his eyes again, but Nursey doesn’t budge, the tempting heat of his body just a few inches from Will’s.

“Do you think we can do it?” Nursey asks, quiet, after a few seconds of not-uncomfortable silence, and Will swallows. They’re down two games already, and the Falcs are dropping like flies—Shitty is out for a few days with an ankle sprain, and Tango is playing with two broken fingers.

“Yes,” he says anyway.

* * *

They win game three, buoyed by their enthusiastic home crowd, and immediately drop game four before they can so much as get their feet under them. Every part of their game is shaky, even Chowder, and it just seems like they can’t string anything together beyond a few good plays before everything falls apart. They’re all trying, harder than ever, but things just aren’t clicking like they did during the regular season and everyone is pressing.

Jack usually isn’t one for the loud, boisterous pregame speeches, but he gives a doozy right before game five, about brothers-in-arms and winning on the Flyers’ turf. It works, somehow, and Will’s goal in the second ends up being the game-winner. The momentum carries them, for once, and they win game six back at home, too. Nursey has three points, including a real beauty of a goal. Will slams into him first, and the crowd is so loud that he can’t even hear what Nursey’s saying, but he’s grinning.

The locker room is more boisterous than it’s been all series, everyone chattering happily, and it finally feels like they have a chance.

* * *

But they fly back to Philly and lose.

* * *

It was ugly, too, and just so fucking close. The Falcs had about four shots bounce off the posts, and the Flyers snuck in the game-winning goal with only about 90 seconds to go. It was the loudest crowd Will’s ever heard, and he’s going to be seeing Flyers orange in his nightmares for the rest of his life, probably. He would have preferred a blowout, he imagines that it would hurt less—because if just a couple more bounces went the other way, the Falcs would be heading to the Conference Final right now.

Instead they’re heading home, the team as a whole deathly silent on the bus and as they file onto the plane. Will and Nursey don’t usually sit together on the plane—the guys give them enough shit as it is for being attached at the hip—but as soon as he sits down, Nursey immediately drops into the seat next to him.

“This seat taken?” he asks quietly, and Will shakes his head.

Nursey spreads his jacket over their thighs and immediately reaches for Will’s hand under the fabric, hooking their first two fingers together. He squeezes, and Will squeezes back, exhaling.

After they’re in the air, Nursey puts Friends on his iPad, offering Will one of his earbuds, and then yawns and shifts in his seat, until he’s slumped down with his head resting against Will’s. Will doesn’t fall asleep, not really, but he kind of zones out to the familiar rhythms of the laugh track and Nursey’s steady breaths.

He really loves this team, and now they’re just…done. It won’t be the same next year, for better and for worse, and Will doesn’t even feel bad about the threat of hot tears pricking at the back of his eyes.

* * *

The rest of their trip home is just as depressing, and by the time he and Nursey get back to their building, Will doesn’t even want to know what time it is.

They take the elevator up, and Will squints at the fluorescent light in the hallway. Nursey finds his keys first, and then they’re just standing there in their entryway, holding their bags.

Nursey coughs, the noise startlingly loud in their dark, silent apartment. “You, uh, wanna watch something?”

Will’s exhausted, more so than he’s ever been in his life, but he nods. Their season is over, and by all accounts this day has been horrible, but he doesn’t want it to end yet.

They drop their bags by the door and move like zombies toward the couch, not bothering with any lights. Nursey flips channels mindlessly, skipping over infomercials and SportsCenter before finally landing on a Bob’s Burgers rerun on Cartoon Network.

They watch for a little while, and Will is frustratingly _not_ tired. His body is, obviously, but his mind is whirring, and he knows that if he tried to go to sleep right now, he’d just end up staring at the ceiling. He tries to focus on the show instead—it’s the best burger one, which is funny—and the warm, steady feel of Nursey’s shoulder against his.

“Hey,” Nursey says quietly, and when Will drags his gaze over to him, he’s suddenly much closer than he was before. His face is drawn and thin, exhaustion coloring his features, but he’s still impossibly handsome, especially with the intensity in his green eyes.

Will doesn’t know who moves first, but suddenly they’re kissing, soft and sweet and quiet, just like the first time. Nursey sighs into his mouth and hooks a hand into the pocket of Will’s hoodie, pulling him a little closer. Finally Will gets a hand on Nursey’s chest and pushes back, just a little. He tries and fails to take a steady breath, tonguing at his lower lip.

“If you’re like…if this is just you trying to feel better, or,” Will swallows, “or if you’re trying to make _me_ feel better—”

God, that is so much fucking _worse_ , Will wants to burn up in a fiery flame of self-pity at the mere thought, but Nursey kisses him before he can even flinch away, his hand coming up to cradle the side of Will’s face.

“Oh fuck, Will, no, I—” Nursey cuts himself off by pressing their lips together again, harder and more desperate, like he’s trying to make Will listen to him by the sheer force of his kiss. “Jesus Christ, that is so not what this is, I swear to god.”

They should talk about this more, probably. Will should sit back and actually think through what this means. But Nursey’s also practically in Will’s lap, his hand cupped possessively around the back of Will’s head as he keeps kissing him, and Will is tired and weak, okay, there’s only so much he can take.

So he tips backward instead, hooking an arm around Nursey’s waist to keep him close, and Nursey catches his weight on his arm, braced against the couch next to Will’s head.

“Fuck,” Nursey mutters, and Will heaves for breath, licking his lips. Nursey kisses him again, sliding one hand into Will’s hair to hold him steady as he takes him apart, one devastating kiss after another. Nursey shifts, one of his thighs moving between Will’s, and Will groans.

“Okay, we gotta—”

Nursey makes a displeased noise and drops more of his weight onto Will, cutting him off with a kiss. “No, let’s just—”

Will twists his head, which doesn’t deter Nursey in the least, as he starts kissing down Will’s neck. “C’mon. I want a bed.” Nursey expresses his displeasure by biting down, and Will’s eyes slide shut. “I—”

Nursey’s mouth is hot, his hand giant where it’s spread across Will’s shoulder. He’s heavy, in the best possible way, and it would be so easy to just sink into the couch, under his weight.

But Will really wants to be in his bed right now, so he summons all his energy, which isn’t much, and sits up, taking Nursey with him. Nursey scrambles off the couch and onto his feet before tugging Will up with him and kissing him again. They make their way, slowly, to the hallway, and there’s a loud, indignant meow as Nursey stumbles.

Will catches him, the both of them falling toward the wall. “Shit,” Nursey says, laughing. Stanley untangles herself from around Nursey’s feet and streaks off toward the living room. “Sorry, sweetie.”

“She’s gonna be pissed at you now,” Will says.

“I’ll make it up to her tomorrow.”

Nursey trips again, and Will presses him against the door jamb of his bedroom, a little harder than is probably strictly necessary. “Be careful, Jesus.”

“Who cares, the season is over,” Nursey says, then freezes against Will’s mouth. He pulls back with a grimace. “Too soon?”

“Too soon,” Will agrees, then strips Nursey’s shirt off to distract himself. It’s a good tactic, overall, and Nursey slides his own hands up Will’s stomach, taking off his shirt and hoodie in one fell swoop.

Nursey pushes him down onto the bed, and Will groans into his mouth as their bare chests meet. Nursey’s just so fucking _solid_ , and when he grinds down, his dick slots perfectly against the cut of Will’s hip. Will’s brain is spinning, and it really isn’t helping that Nursey keeps kissing all the oxygen out of him. He fumbles blindly for his nightstand, sending a book crashing to the floor, and yanks open the drawer. He finds the lube after a minimal amount of scrambling and manages to squeeze some into his hand without breaking the kiss. He works Nursey’s sweats down with his dry hand and worms the other between their bodies, curling his fingers solidly around the base of Nursey’s dick.

Nursey groans and dips his head, his mouth open against Will’s shoulder. “Holy shit.”

Will strokes up, slow and tight, and Nursey’s breath is hot against his skin as he whines. “This okay?”

Nursey nods, his hair tickling Will’s cheek. “I—fuck.” He pushes into Will’s hand and hisses. “But I can’t, uh—”

Nursey collapses down, only sort of gently, and they end up on their sides, facing each other and kicking their sweats all the way off. Will readjusts his grip, wrapping around both of them instead, and Nursey lets out a little choked sob. Will misses Nursey’s weight on top of him, but he can see now, though, can see how their bodies slot together, the way their legs are tangled.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Jesus, Nursey, you’re so hot. Look at you. I’m so—”

Nursey catches his lips in a kiss, desperate and panting, and lets out a strangled noise that’s half-laugh, half-groan. “Oh my god, you’re a talker, what the fuck.”

Will huffs a laugh. “Is that a problem?”

Nursey’s face scrunches up, and he bites his lip. “Only that I’m gonna come in about four seconds, is that a problem for you?”

“I dunno.” Will readjusts his grip, dropping his own dick and pushing up on one elbow as he leans over Nursey. “Is it good, do you wanna come?”

Nursey nods, his eyes hazy and half-lidded, and Will speeds up his hand until Nursey curls up and comes with a groan, spilling over his stomach and Will’s fingers. Will keeps stroking him, his touch light, until Nursey pushes his hand away.

Will is dancing along the edge of a hair trigger, so he flops down onto his back and reaches for his own dick. His hand is still slick, from Nursey’s come and the leftover lube, and he hisses at the touch of his own fingers.

Nursey rolls over, his hand trailing over Will’s abs. “Just gimme a sec, I’ll—”

Will is too close, though, so he shakes his head and plants one foot on the bed, fucking up into his fist just twice before coming into his hand.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Nursey says, and then he’s clambering on top of Will and kissing him. His grip on Will’s hair is tight, and Will lies there and takes it until he has to twist his head to suck in air.

Nursey kisses him one last time, disarmingly sweet, and rolls off. Will closes his eyes, his heart pounding, and breathes.

“M’not moving,” Nursey slurs a few minutes later, and Will shakes his head without opening his eyes.

“No way.”

He grabs a corner of his sheet and perfunctorily wipes them both off—gross, but it’s better than getting up. He’ll just wash them tomorrow. Nursey doesn’t seem to care, at least, as he slings one arm across Will’s chest and kisses his shoulder.

Will shivers, his skin still sensitive, and curls into the warmth of Nursey’s body.

* * *

Will jerks awake sometime in the middle of the night, when a stray elbow catches him right in the ribs. “S’rry,” Nursey murmurs, still mostly asleep.

Will rolls over with a grunt, caging him in under his arm. “Don’t go anywhere,” he slurs into Nursey’s hair, and Nursey fumbles for his hand, tangling their fingers together.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the final chapter! Hope you all like it. ♥

Will wakes up far earlier than is warranted. He needs to sleep for a week, probably, but his body seemingly didn’t get the memo that the season is over because Will is wide awake. He’s not really interested in moving, though, considering that Nursey is wrapped around him from behind like a limpet, his breath gently ruffling Will’s hair.

Last night was…pretty good, Will feels fairly confident in stating that as an objective fact. But he would’ve said that before, too, both times, so maybe that doesn’t mean anything.

“I can _feel_ you freaking out,” Nursey whispers, and Will startles.

“Holy shit, I didn’t know you were awake.”

Nursey snorts and tightens his arm around Will’s waist. “Calm down.”

He noses at the curve of Will’s neck, dropping a kiss to his shoulder blade, and Will tries to exhale. “Given our history, you can understand my hesitation,” he says dryly.

“I deserve that,” Nursey admits. His hand trails down from Will’s chest to his stomach, slow enough to make Will twitch.

“What’re you doing?”

“What does it feel like I’m doing?” Nursey kisses behind his ear. “You didn’t let me do anything fun last night.”

Will buries his smile into the pillow. “Oh, was last night not fun for you?”

“It was, believe me. Need to make sure it’s fun for you.”

Nursey thumbs over Will’s nipple, making him twitch, embarrassingly. Nursey laughs, not unkindly, and bites lightly at Will’s neck.

“No, uh, no worries about that,” Will manages. He fists his hand in the sheets by his head.

“You need to put some weight back on.”

Nursey’s touch is light, bumping down the ridges of his abs, and Will squirms. “Is this your version of dirty talk?”

Nursey laughs again and sweeps down his hip, just skirting his dick. Finally, when Will is just about on the edge of begging, Nursey finally takes him in hand, his touch light and dry. “Where’s that lube?”

Will forces his brain to think. “Um…”

He rummages in the sheets and finds it, passing it over to Nursey. It’s cold, when Nursey’s slick palm wraps around him again, but it’s a welcome contrast to Nursey’s warm body plastered against his back, their skin tacky with sweat, and Will shivers.

The pace Nursey sets is slower than Will would prefer, if he were getting himself off, but Nursey has him pretty well-pinned, their legs tangled, and Will can’t get much leverage to thrust up into his hand. It’s torturous, basically, and Will can’t do anything but watch as Nursey nibbles on his neck, probably leaving a mark, and takes him apart with every tight stroke of his hand.

Finally Will comes, with a groan that’s a little too close to a whine for comfort, and slumps back against Nursey. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes, and Nursey huffs against his ear.

“Fuck, you’re hot.”

Nursey’s dick is hard against his ass, sticky-wet at the tip, and as soon as Will catches his breath, he squirms around until he’s between Nursey’s legs. Nursey looks wrecked, sleepy and rumpled, his chest heaving, and Will traces the cut of his hip with his thumb.

“What?” Nursey asks, nonsensically, and Will laughs.

“ _What_ what?”

“Are you just gonna…hang out down there?”

“I mean, maybe.”

“I’m like, really close.”

“Okay,” Will says mildly, and Nursey groans.

Will takes his time sucking him off, pulling back each time it seems like Nursey is about to come, figuring out what he can do to get Nursey to make those devastating, choked-off noises.

Nursey’s shaking by the time he’s done, sweaty and spread-eagle on the bed, and Will’s maybe more proud of that than he is of some of his goals this year.

He yawns and cracks his neck as he sits up. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Okay,” Nursey says, his eyes still closed.

“You just gonna…stay there?”

Nursey lifts one hand in a lazy thumbs up. “Yep. Can’t really feel my legs. Catch you in a bit.”

Will laughs and rolls out of bed. He brushes his teeth and turns on the shower, then reaches for his razor. He grows a pretty decent beard, if he says so himself—certainly better than a lot of the other shoddy attempts on the team—but this one has to go.

Nursey wanders in, still naked, when Will’s just about done, and their eyes meet in the mirror.

“I liked the beard,” Nursey says plainly, and Will swallows.

“Maybe I’ll grow it again.”

“My turn,” Nursey says, bumping Will away from the sink.

Will doesn’t point out that Nursey has a bathroom of his very own and instead gets in the shower. He scrubs down quickly, and when he gets out, Nursey is still in front of the sink. Will wraps a towel around his waist and pokes Nursey's freshly-bare face. “This is weird. I’ve never seen your cheeks before.”

Nursey snorts. “Don’t get too attached, it comes back fast.”

“You gonna use my shower, too?” Will asks, and Nursey grins at him.

“Yep.” Nursey reaches around him to turn the shower on again and drops a kiss on Will’s shoulder. “Oh, pack a bag.”

“What?”

“Pack a bag,” Nursey repeats, and hearing the words a second time doesn’t lessen Will's confusion in the least.

“Like, to go somewhere? But we have—”

“Locker clean-out on Monday, I know. That’s, like, 48 hours from now.”

Nursey gives no more details, just steps into the shower, and Will shakes his head. He plays along, though, and reaches for his duffel bag after he gets dressed. He’s basically a professional packer now, and it doesn’t take him long to gather together his clothes and travel toiletries. He packs casual clothes only, though, because if Nursey expects something different, he should have said something.

Nursey’s still in the shower when he’s done, so Will wanders into the kitchen. He grabs a banana, since he’s starving, and finds his phone where he left it on the counter last night. He has a ton of notifications on his phone, but he ignores them all and sets it back down when Stanley meows, curling herself around his ankles. “Oh, are you hungry, too?”

She hops in his lap as soon as he sits down on the floor, and he cuddles her for a minute before he fills her bowl.

“I already talked to Bitty,” Nursey says as he comes into the kitchen, holding his own bag. “He’ll look in on her.”

“Okay.” Will scratches behind her ears one last time and stands. “Bye, Stanny.”

“Love you, sweetie, be nice to Bitty,” Nursey says to her, then ushers Will out of the apartment and down to his car.

Nursey doesn’t offer any more details about where they’re going, and Will doesn’t press. They drive south, eventually going over a bridge big enough to make Will wince, and while he doesn’t know a _lot_ about Rhode Island geography, he at least eventually recognizes that they’re heading to Newport.

Nursey checks the map on his phone a couple times and turns down several small roads, finally stopping at a modern-looking, low-slung building that’s practically hidden in the lush greenery.

Nursey parks and cuts the engine. “Stay here.”

Will watches him walk toward the building. He can’t see the ocean from this vantage point, but he can smell it through the open car windows, so it must be close.

Nursey comes back a few minutes later and opens the passenger side door, gesturing at Will.

“Uh, what is this?”

“This is a hotel in Newport,” Nursey says, the _duh_ evident in his voice, and Will rolls his eyes. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Nursey leads him to a line of stand-alone cottages around the corner from the main building and uses the key in his hand to open the one on the end. It’s light and airy, just one big room featuring a small kitchenette at one end and a living area at the other, complete with a large couch and a set of French doors leading out to what looks like a balcony. There’s a giant king-size bed, with pristine white sheets and fluffy-looking pillows, in the middle, facing a stone fireplace with a giant flat-screen above it.

“Nice, right?” Nursey says, and Will nods. _Nice_ is an understatement. The far wall is entirely windows, with an expansive view of the ocean, and Will wanders over to investigate, dropping his bag on the bench at the foot of the bed.

Nursey comes up behind him, resting his chin on Will’s shoulder, and they watch the rhythmic rolling of the waves for a few minutes. He doesn’t exactly know what to say— _thank you_ or _what are we doing here_ would probably both be good starts—but Nursey wraps his arms around him and squeezes before Will manages to choose.

“You hungry?”

“Starving,” Will says, and his stomach rumbles loudly, echoing him.

Nursey laughs and takes a step backward, tugging Will with him. “C’mon, let’s go eat.”

There’s a restaurant on the property, and there’s still a little bit of time before they stop serving brunch. They sit in the far corner of the outdoor patio, hats and sunglasses on, and mercifully, no one gives them a second glance.

After three cups of coffee, an omelet, bacon, and a couple pancakes, Will feels slightly more human. Nursey does, too, if the way his personality picks up again is any indication, and he snatches up the check before Will can reach for it.

“You wanna explore or nap?”

“Walk,” Will decides, “then nap. I need to digest.”

“Good call.”

They wander the streets of Newport for a little while, going nowhere in particular, until Nursey yawns three times in as many minutes and Will guides them back to the hotel.

Will gives the fireplace a wistful look, but even though it seems cozy, it isn’t really cool enough outside. Nursey picks up a brochure on the desk and flips through it. “Wow, we can get a massage _in our room_.”

“We should definitely do that.” Will stretches out on the bed and kicks off his shoes, yawning. “I’ve forgotten what it feels like to get a massage that doesn’t hurt like hell.”

Nursey drops the brochure and turns, snorting at the sight of Will. “Well don’t you look comfy over there.”

Will doesn’t respond, just opens his arms, and Nursey laughs. He shucks his shorts, leaving him in just his boxers, and grabs the throw blanket from the couch, draping it over both of them as he joins Will on the bed.

It’s quiet, just the whir of the ceiling fan and the faint sounds of the ocean that Will can hear if he concentrates, and he exhales.

He feels empty, almost, crushed and worn-out from the season—not to mention its abrupt ending—but at least he has Nursey’s warm weight across his chest. He’s not asleep, Will can tell from his breath, but he might not have long. Will takes a quick breath, braces himself, and rips off the band-aid.

“So I think we should maybe talk,” he says. Nursey groans, twisting and flopping dramatically onto his stomach, his face buried in the pillows, and Will laughs, more charmed than he’d like to admit. “You’re such a child.”

“Am not,” he shoots back.

“Are too.”

“Fine.” Nursey turns his head toward him, so Will can see one eye and half of his smile. “I like you. A lot. Like, a ridiculous amount. As in, closer to love than I would like to admit right now.”

Will blinks. Trust Nursey to keep surprising him.

“You, uh.” Will wets his lips and pulls the blanket tighter around him. “You what?”

“Totally head over heels,” Nursey says plainly. He pushes up onto his elbows, and Will gets briefly distracted by the sight of his shoulders in the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. “It’s very embarrassing.”

Is Will dreaming? Probably not. He’s pretty sure that if he were dreaming, there’d also be a Stanley Cup involved.

“This is the place where you say something,” Nursey prompts.

“I, um—likewise,” Will says, then winces at himself. _Likewise_? Jesus. “I…fuck. That’s not what I was expecting you to say. Give me a second.”

Will’s face is hot, probably with that splotchy ugly blush that he hates, and he covers his face with his hands. Nursey laughs. “What were you expecting me to say?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Not that.”

Will opens his eyes after a few seconds, even though he’s no closer to figuring out what he wants to say. Nursey’s still looking down at him, but he doesn’t look impatient or upset or anything. His eyes are soft, there’s a little smile on his face, the sweet fond one that Will doesn’t get to see very often, and god, Will just really—

“I love you,” he blurts out, without direct input from the rational side of his brain, then winces when Nursey’s eyes widen. He scrambles onto his side and reaches out, clapping a hand over Nursey’s mouth. “Wait, don’t say anything.”

“Why?” Nursey asks—or at least, Will thinks he does, his voice is pretty muffled. He takes a breath.

“I, uh, I’m not taking it back or anything. But I didn’t exactly mean to say that. But I do, you know, like you. A lot, obviously. For a while. And I’d like to…date you. Exclusively. If that’s a thing that you want.”

Nursey looks at him, blinking patiently, and Will slowly moves his hand away. Nursey smiles again. “I was just gonna say I—”

Will covers his mouth again, shaking his head. “No, nope, don’t say it back,” he says. “No. You’re just gonna say it because I said it.”

Nursey rolls his eyes and reaches up for Will’s wrist, pulling his hand away. “That’s not what I was gonna say, jeez.”

“Oh,” Will says, half-disappointed and half-relieved. “What, then?”

Nursey grins. “I love you, too.”

Will gapes at him, shoving at his shoulder. “Oh, fuck you.”

Nursey cracks up, tipping forward to tuck his face into the curve of Will’s neck. “Ah, yes, that’s what I’ve always dreamed the response would be when I told someone I loved them. _Fuck you_.”

“Well, then.” Will rests his chin on Nursey’s head and gives into the temptation to press a kiss to his hair. “Glad I could deliver.”

They lie there for a minute, Nursey’s breath warm and soft against his skin, before he pushes himself up far enough to reach Will’s mouth. The kiss is sweet and slow, at least up until Will slides his hand into Nursey’s hair, making him hiss.

Nursey moves on top of him, his weight heavy over Will’s hips, and deepens the kiss. “I want all that, too,” he murmurs. “Obviously.”

“It wasn’t at all obvious,” Will tries to argue, but Nursey just snorts and kisses him again.

Eventually Will tangles his fingers in the fabric of Nursey’s shirt, shoving it up until Nursey pulls far away enough to get it over his head. Will reaches for him, eager to get his hands on all that skin, but Nursey moves back, scooching down the bed until he’s between Will’s legs. He tugs at the hem of Will’s shirt, and he obediently strips it off.

“So I haven’t exactly done this before,” Nursey says. His gaze is fixed firmly on the waistband of Will’s shorts, and Will blinks, a little taken aback.

He starts to shift back, even though there really isn’t anywhere for him to go. “Uh. You definitely don’t—”

“Oh no.” Nursey plants his giant hand, steady and firm, on Will’s stomach. “I want to. Most definitely. I’m just, like, warning you.”

“I, uh.” Will swallows. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Nursey works Will’s shorts down his thighs and tilts his head. “I mean, it can’t be rocket science. Right?”

It probably shouldn’t be sexy, the way Nursey’s… _examining_ him like that, and yet Will’s dick is most definitely straining against his boxer-briefs. Nursey puts his mouth on him, slow but not hesitant, and Will sucks in a breath at the contact, even through the fabric.

“Fuck. Nursey, I—”

Nursey hums, the vibration making Will shiver, and tugs his boxers down. Will twists his fingers in the sheets by his hips, squeezing tight.

Nursey’s methodical about it, almost, and enthusiastic, and honestly, Will is so far gone on him that he could probably just stare at Will’s dick and that would be enough to make him come. He does more than that, though, and it doesn’t take long, embarrassingly, until he’s pushing at Nursey’s shoulder and watching as Nursey pulls back, wiping his mouth on his shoulder.

Nursey’s hand slides so easy, his gaze so intent, that it barely feels like any time at all before Will is gasping and coming all over Nursey’s fingers. Nursey leans forward to lick curiously at a streak of come near Will’s hip, and Will squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck. Come up here.”

Nursey does, stretching out over Will, and the press of his weight feels amazing against Will’s over-sensitized skin. Nursey’s still hard, which is reassuring, and he groans when Will worms a hand between them.

“What d’you—”

Nursey cuts him off by pressing their lips together again, hard. “Just kiss me,” he says, against his mouth. “I’m—yeah, just like that.”

This angle isn’t the best, and it’s a little dry, but Nursey doesn’t seem to care as he thrusts into Will’s grip, against his abs. The kiss gets sloppier, and Nursey pulls back before he comes, his mouth open against Will’s jaw. He spills hot against Will’s stomach with a groan, his fingers tangled with Will’s near his head, and slumps off to the side.

“Fuck, you’re a good kisser,” he says, and Will plans to return the compliment as soon as he gets his breath back.

Eventually, he gathers enough energy to stagger to the bathroom for a damp washcloth. He curls up against Nursey afterward, exhausted, and Nursey cards a hand through his hair.

“Can I ask you a question?” Will asks, and Nursey hums. “Why didn’t you tell me? When I, uh, came out to you. Not that you—”

_Not that you owe me anything_ , he means, but Nursey sighs before Will can get the words out.

“I…I dunno. I’ve known for a long time, I think, that I’m probably bi. But it’s—I’ve never really acted on it, I guess. I’ve kissed a couple guys before, I mean, but nothing else, really. It felt, like, not the same level. As what you were telling me. Does that make sense?”

Will frowns. “Yes, but also no. Because those feelings are valid, too. Obviously.”

“I know,” Nursey says. “Really. But it was such a big important thing that you were telling me, and it felt weird to be like, oh by the way, I also think guys are hot sometimes.”

Will laughs. “You could have said that. It wouldn’t have been weird.”

“And I was _going_ to tell you, things just got complicated, I guess.” Nursey traces his fingers over Will’s arm, light enough to make him shiver, but he doesn’t tell him to stop. “I—I didn’t handle it very well when things were going on between us. Like I said, I’d been attracted to guys before, but I’d never really had _feelings_ for one, and it was just a lot to deal with. I was kind of confused. Not about how I felt, but…I dunno.”

Will swallows. “I mean, I wasn’t…it’s not like I was being straightforward, either.”

“We maybe should have talked sooner.”

“Better late than never,” Will says, and Nursey laughs.

“Now I have a question.”

Will yawns. “Sure.”

“Did you hook up with Ricky’s brother?”

Will laughs, surprised, and hides his face in Nursey’s shoulder. “Yes,” he says, his voice muffled.

“ _Knew_ it,” Nursey says triumphantly, and Will twists to face him, lifting an eyebrow.

“You did not. Did you really know?”

Nursey shrugs. “No, not really. I was…suspicious, I guess. Wasn’t sure. You guys weren’t that subtle about it.”

“It’s easy to hide when you’re hiding something that people aren’t looking for. Believe me, I know. So that means you were paying attention.” Nursey looks shifty, and Will laughs. “Gotcha.”

Nursey lunges for him, and they wrestle for a few minutes until Will lets himself be pinned, Nursey’s knees on either side of his hips. It’s not the worst place to be.

“You want to know something weird?” Will asks.

“Always.”

“Remember LA? When I, uh—”

“When you had that giant hickey on the back of your neck,” Nursey interrupts. “Yes, I remember, it’s seared into my brain, thanks.”

“It wasn’t _giant_ , for fuck’s sake.” Will rolls his eyes. “But it was, uh…the same guy.”

Nursey’s brow furrows. “The brother? What, do you know him or something?”

“No! He was a total rando. And then it turned out he was Ricky’s goddamn brother.”

“Wow. What are the fucking chances.”

“Seriously. I couldn’t believe it, I thought I was gonna die.”

“So instead you hooked up with him,” Nursey says dryly.

Will sits up and pats the comforter around him, looking for his phone. “That reminds me, I should text him.”

“You _text_ him?”

“Yeah, we’re like, friends.”

Nursey opens his mouth, then closes it again, pouting. “I think I’m jealous?” he says, and Will smirks down at his phone.

“Tough shit,” he says, and Nursey smacks him with a pillow. “Ow!”

“Stop texting your booty call when you’re in bed with me.”

“He’s not my _booty_ _call_ , jesus. He’s very invested in us, I gotta tell him.”

“Invested in what?”

“In us. You and me. He used to bug me about it all the time.”

Nursey smirks. “Oh, really? Your pining was that obvious, huh?”

“I wasn’t exactly pining,” Will lies.

“Uh-huh.” Nursey peers over his shoulder. “Tell him the sex is much better with me. And if that’s a lie, I don’t wanna know about it.”

It’s not a lie, but Will still doesn’t say it. He gets out a text and a half before Nursey plucks his phone out of his hand and moves it to the nightstand.

“I’m tired. Nap with me, please,” he says, tugging Will’s arm over his waist, and well, who would argue with that?

* * *

They check out early on Monday morning. Will’s sad to leave their little cocoon—they spent all of Sunday in their room, eating and napping and having sex and ignoring the outside world—to head off into the uncertain summer, but at least they’re going together.

“Earth to Will.”

Nursey’s voice breaks through his thoughts, and Will blinks, turning to him. “What?”

“Are you thinking about that thing we did on the couch?”

Will flushes. “No!”

“You are now, though,” Nursey says, cocky as all hell behind his sunglasses, and Will rolls his eyes.

“Shut up.”

“That’s not what you were saying yesterday.”

“Oh my god, you’re gonna be insufferable now, aren’t you.”

It isn’t a question, and Nursey doesn’t argue. But he offers his hand, and Will takes it, even though it bugs the hell out of him that Nursey drives with only one hand like 80 percent of the time.

Providence’s dinky little skyline comes into view, and Nursey flicks his blinker on for the exit that’ll take them to the Dunk. Will’s not exactly looking forward to this—cleaning out his locker will be disheartening, talking to the media about their postseason failures will be torturous, and saying goodbye to everyone will be just plain sad.

But there’s still the promise of next year. They played well enough to almost certainly secure spots next year, and if you told Will that at this time _last_ year, he would’ve been fucking thrilled. And as much as he loves hockey, the summer will be a nice break. He and Nursey decided to stay in Providence for the bulk of offseason training, after a couple weeks in their respective home cities and maybe even a real vacation.

Nursey squeezes his hand, and Will squeezes back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this one is done! Thank you all _so much_ for all the love. ♥♥♥
> 
> (And I'm [leslieknopeismyshiningstar](http://leslieknopeismyshiningstar.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!)


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